


The Masks We Wear

by BonusMeme



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: A Stitch in Time - Andrew Robinson, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Assassination, Developing Relationship, Espionage, First Kiss, First Time, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Garak altered to look human, Getting Together, Huddling For Warmth, Interrogation, Klingon-Cardassian War, M/M, Minor Character Death, New Relationship, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Julian Bashir, Plague, Post-Episode 4x1 The Way of the Warrior, Second Time, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Sonic showers, The Never-Ending Sacrifice - Una McCormack, Their undercover names are Sid and Andy, Trust Issues, Undercover Identities, Unreliable Narrator, cosmetic surgery, fantasies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2019-10-21 22:48:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 38
Words: 223,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17651318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BonusMeme/pseuds/BonusMeme
Summary: Tensions are high as the Klingon-Cardassian War rages on, spreading famine and disease throughout the Cardassian Union. Under the threat of Dominion expansion into the Alpha Quadrant, Starfleet sends Dr. Bashir undercover to find evidence of Dominion involvement on Cardassia. Accompanied by a disguised Garak, Julian is thrilled for the chance to live out his spy fantasies - dreams that are shattered when he realizes trust is not a thing to be given away freely.





	1. Suspicion

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place after The Way of the Warrior and diverges from there.
> 
> Disclaimer - I don't own anything.

Julian Bashir felt his heart rate pick up as the doors to Captain Sisko’s office whooshed open. It was a silly reaction, really. He had been serving on Deep Space 9 for over three years, he should be well accustomed to Sisko calling him in for private meetings. But there were still moments when a slight worry would creep up, times when the meeting seemed requested out of nowhere, not prompted by anything currently happening on the station. Then his mind would jump to all sorts of conclusions, playing out his most feared scenarios.

Julian looked up to meet the captain’s unsmiling face. Turning off the viewscreen, Sisko had evidently just ended a call. Stress lines creased his forehead and between his eyebrows. He looked far from pleased.

A million possibilities began bombarding Julian’s mind. Maybe his father, wherever that blighter was, had let something slip. Or perhaps Starfleet had somehow obtained record of that medical facility on Adigeon Prime and learned the truth.

“Please, Doctor, have a seat,” Sisko instructed, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk.

Julian took the proffered seat and waited for the captain to begin.

“I have just had a conversation with Admiral Ross,” Sisko began simply, folding his hands. “It appears Starfleet Command has a special assignment for you.” His lips curled up slightly, but his expression could not be considered a smile.

Relieved that Sisko hadn’t called him in to discharge him for illegal genetic enhancements, Julian perked up. “A special assignment, sir?” he asked, shifting in his chair.

“Yes, a highly classified assignment,” Sisko explained, his face growing stern. “I do not need to remind you that what you hear next will not leave this room.”

“I understand,” Julian acknowledged with a nod. Silence ensued as Sisko seemed to gather his thoughts, leaving Julian in suspense. The doctor’s gaze fell to the baseball on Sisko’s desk as he waited.

At length, Sisko spoke. “Starfleet has reason to suspect Dominion involvement on Cardassia.”

After the blood screenings the Detapa Council had undergone, Julian was more than a little bemused by this new information. “So the Klingons _were_ right?” he asked, his brows knitting in confusion. “But we took blood screenings of all the council members.”

The captain shook his head. “Starfleet has no evidence that the Dominion was involved in the coup on Cardassia, only that Gul Dukat may be actively communicating with the Dominion, perhaps to negotiate Cardassia’s admittance.”

That was less surprising. With Gul Dukat, nefarious schemes were to be expected. “Ah, I see,” Julian nodded thoughtfully. “Well that is bad. If Cardassia joined the Dominion…”

“The Dominion would gain a foothold in the Alpha Quadrant,” Sisko finished grimly.

After mulling over the new information for a few moments, Julian’s confusion returned. “But what does this have to do with me?” he asked, tilting his head.

Captain Sisko picked up his baseball and began fingering it as he proceeded to explain. “Starfleet wishes to send an undercover agent on an intelligence-gathering mission to Cardassia Prime to investigate these rumors. They need evidence of Dominion involvement in order to justify war preparations. And they want to send you.”

Julian’s eyes expanded to the size of Sisko’s beloved baseball. “Me?” he asked, his mouth hanging slightly open. “But I’m a doctor, not an intelligence operative. Wouldn’t this be better handled by someone in Starfleet Intelligence?”

Sisko shook his head. “I told Admiral Ross as much,” he replied. “But he believes you would be best suited for this mission. It appears the war has caused a plague to spread throughout the Cardassian colonies and all the way to Cardassia Prime. The virus has mutated beyond its former treatment, and due to the war, Cardassia is currently lacking in doctors and resources. Starfleet is well aware of your ability to find cures for the incurable.” He paused to allow Julian to speak, but the doctor was still too nonplussed for words. “They also believe your familiarity with Cardassian culture and your affinity for spy novels makes you the ideal candidate,” he added, his neutral tone giving way to skepticism.

Julian wrinkled his forehead as he tried to process Sisko’s words. He could tell by the captain’s tone that he found this assignment as odd as he did, and he knew the captain hated it when Starfleet kept him in the dark. “I see,” was all he could say.

“You should also know that you would be required to go as a civilian doctor under a false identity so that if the mission is compromised, Starfleet won’t be implicated,” Sisko further explained.

“Right…”

Julian’s voice trailed away, his mind overwhelmed with thoughts. Out of all the experiences he had expected a Starfleet career to give him, intelligence officer was not one. That being said, he couldn’t deny its appeal. A chance to live out his spy fantasies while helping the Federation foil the Dominion’s plans and curing the population of a deadly plague – how could he refuse? It was like the plot of one of his holoprograms… But why did Starfleet specifically request him? He was hardly trained in undercover operations.

Sisko placed his baseball back on its pedestal and fixed his eyes pointedly on Julian. “Let me be clear, Doctor. This is in no way an order. I am giving you the choice to refuse,” he stated firmly. “I know this lies well beyond the scope of your duties. If you do not wish to go, I will simply tell Admiral Ross to find someone else. And if you need some time to think it over…”

“That’s all right, Captain,” Julian interrupted, meeting Sisko’s gaze. “I want to go. I want to do this.”

Julian’s sudden resolve caused visible surprise on the captain’s face. “Are you sure?” he asked, studying the doctor carefully.

“Absolutely,” Julian nodded, a smile spreading across his face. He tried to dial back his overt eagerness as he explained, “An opportunity like this doesn’t come every day in the medical field, and I am ready to serve Starfleet in whatever capacity is required.” His doubts surpassed by excitement, he continued, “And with the plague crisis, I can’t help but feel obligated to aid them.”

“I had a feeling you would say as much,” Sisko said. His mouth spread into a slight smile, but his eyes were still full of worry. Shifting in his seat, he released a breath of resignation. “Just…promise me you’ll be careful, Doctor. I want you coming back from this alive.” He fixed his gaze firmly on Julian. “And _that_ is an order.”

Julian nodded, his eyes shining with determination. “Yes, sir,” he assured the captain. There was a moment of silence in the room before something occurred to him. “But, if I can make one request…I think I’ll need some help on this mission.”

 

* * *

 

“Why, Captain, this is indeed a surprise. After I took your measurements the other week, I was certain you wouldn’t need another fitting for at least a year.”

Garak stood by the door as it whooshed closed behind him, his eyes scanning the office and lingering indifferently on Julian. The Cardassian tailor looked out of place in such an official location usually restricted to high ranking station personnel.

Sisko seemed in no mood for pleasantries, cutting right to the chase. “Have a seat, Mr. Garak. This doesn’t concern my measurements.”

Julian sat quietly as Sisko explained the situation to Garak, carefully observing their faces. Each wore their own mask of impassivity, Sisko’s etched in stern authority, Garak’s in pleasant nonchalance. He noted that Sisko gave the Cardassian an abbreviated report of the situation, leaving out Starfleet’s alleged reasons for requesting Dr. Bashir. It was impossible to tell what Garak thought of the whole scheme, frustrating Julian as he waited in anticipation. He knew the success of this mission hinged on Garak’s response.

After Sisko had concluded with, “And despite my misgivings, Dr. Bashir insists you would provide valuable help to him,” Garak spoke.

“I too have heard many disconcerting reports about the state of Cardassia, but I can only do so much investigating lightyears away on this station. I would be happy to accompany the good doctor on this assignment.” He smiled amiably as if he had just closed a business deal.

The ease with which Garak accepted everything, including the notion that Starfleet would enlist a doctor as an operative, seemed suspect. There was obviously more going on inside that Cardassian head, but Julian knew Garak better than to expect such transparency in front of himself and Sisko.

Sisko stared at Garak as if he were trying to see through the Cardassian’s innocuous demeanor to reveal his true motives. “I suspected so. But before I authorize this, I need to ask you a few questions.” Sisko rose from his chair and began walking around his desk, stopping beside it to look at Garak. “How can I be certain you won’t betray Dr. Bashir to get back into the good graces of the Cardassian government?”

Garak’s mask was all shocked affectation as he replied, “Why Captain, I could hardly betray Dr. Bashir after all the pleasant lunches we’ve shared.” He glanced over at Julian with a fond smile.

Avoiding his friend’s overly kind eyes, Julian returned his gaze to Sisko. The captain looked unimpressed with Garak’s answer, using his height advantage to glare down at the tailor.

Garak’s smile faded, leaving his mouth in a solemn tight line. “I can assure you that the new regime on Cardassia is no friend to me,” he began, meeting Sisko’s glare with ease. “They have dismantled the Obsidian Order and stripped power from Central Command. And I need not remind you that I am still in exile. Somehow the Detapa Council doesn’t see it in their best interest to pardon a former Obsidian Order agent. I am no more welcome on there now than I was when Central Command was in power.”

Sisko’s frown remained as solid as stone. “A fact which I’m certain you’re eager to change.”

“But that would hardly serve my purposes, Captain,” Garak argued, gesturing with his hand. “If Dukat is trying to secure Cardassia’s entry into the Dominion, I am just as eager as the Federation to stop it, if only to once more be a thorn in Dukat’s side.” His eyes glinted with just a fraction of the contempt he must have felt toward his longtime enemy.

Sisko folded his arms and leaned against his desk, visibly deliberating. Julian knew it was difficult for the captain to rely on such an unknown variable, let alone stake his career on it. But Garak had a track record of aiding them whenever it served his interests, like when he helped defend DS9 against the Klingon invaders. They just needed to be certain that ascertaining Dominion involvement on Cardassia aligned with Garak’s interests.

When Garak broke the silence, his tone was a shade darker. His voice no longer bore any melodious mischief. “I have seen what the Dominion is capable of, Captain. If they gained control of Cardassia, the results would be catastrophic, not just to the quadrant, but to my homeworld. My people.”

Julian’s attention was fully on Garak now, attempting to find anything in the Cardassian’s face to contradict his sincere tone. He would like to believe that his experience with Garak’s lies gave him the ability to perceive when Garak was telling the truth. This seemed to be such a case.

Sisko heaved a sigh before turning toward Julian. “Do you trust him, Doctor?”

That was a question Julian had been asking himself ever since that day in replimat when Garak strode over and introduced himself, his smile mischievous, his cold hand heavy on Julian’s shoulder. Despite that voice in his mind that whispered never to turn his back on Garak – a voice that sounded suspiciously Cardassian – he felt his trust in the tailor continue to grow. The closer their friendship became, the more Julian wanted to find goodness inside that mysterious and tortured man. Perhaps that was just the naivety that Garak often chided him for, or perhaps it was real. Perhaps Garak wasn’t the monster he wanted everyone to think he was.

“I do, sir.”

He exhaled after the words left his mouth. His cheeks burned slightly when he felt Garak’s gaze on him.

“Garak knows Cardassia better than anyone,” Julian continued, his eyes fixed on Sisko. “I would be much more effective with his knowledge and guidance. Not to mention I don’t think I can become fluent in Kardasi in such a short time.”

As Sisko continued to ponder, Garak spoke up again. “And frankly, Captain, I think the doctor will need me,” he said. “I don’t know what Starfleet has planned for him to do, but the Detapa Council has seen his face when they were briefly on the station. The Obsidian Order may be gone, but only a fool would believe they are functioning without an intelligence agency. If he is to elude detection, he will require my assistance.”

Julian nodded in agreement, swallowing. In his excitement he had forgotten about that little detail. Though he was certain Starfleet knew what they were doing, this only furthered his belief that he needed Garak’s help.

Sisko considered their words for a moment longer, pinching the bridge of his nose. Eventually he moved back behind his desk and sat down. “Very well,” he decided. “I will contact Admiral Ross and tell him that you are only willing to go if Garak can accompany you.”

Julian couldn’t prevent a smile from curling his lips. “Thank you.”

The captain nodded at Julian before fixing a strict glare on Garak. “Let me repeat that this is purely an intelligence-gathering mission,” he said, his voice deep and commanding. “Starfleet Command has made it clear that they want _no_ assassinations.”

A grin played at the corners of Garak’s mouth, but he suppressed it. Still, there was a twinkle in his eye as he replied, “Of course, Captain. I would expect as much from the Federation.”

When Sisko turned his gaze on Julian, it was just as solemn, but a little less harsh. “I need not remind you, Doctor, that a lot is riding on your trust in him. Keep him in line.”

Keeping the Cardassian in line was a lot to ask, but Julian would have to manage it. “I will,” he promised. He could feel his former excitement return at the prospect of a real undercover operation with _Garak_ , the master of subterfuge, but he knew better than to let it show at the moment. Sisko needed to feel confident in him, not embarrassed by his childish enthusiasm. But god, this was going to be the adventure of a lifeti–

Garak’s voice drew him out of his thoughts.

“If I may point out, Captain, there is still one problem. Dr. Bashir might only have to stay out of the council’s sight, but I would have more eyes to worry about. I am, after all, an exiled man. If I am to return to Cardassia, I must not be recognizable.”

 

* * *

 

Julian shifted in his uncomfortable chair as the words on his padd began to blur together. Though his genetic enhancements had made him a fast learner, Kardasi was proving a very intricate language. It was difficult to concentrate on the difference among verb tenses where he kept glancing anxiously at the chronometer on the wall, his mind constantly wandering to Garak.

They were on a Vulcan science station about fifty lightyears from DS9 that housed one of the Federation’s best cosmetic surgeons. At 1600 he was scheduled to meet with Admiral Ross before he and Garak boarded the civilian transport that would take them to Cardassia Prime. But first they would be given new identities, and in Garak’s case, a new body.

Julian was relieved to leave this surgery to a Vulcan specialist. Despite his diligent study of textbooks and his best efforts to get Garak on a biobed, he was lacking in knowledge of the intricacies of Cardassian physiology. He could have made his best attempt and it might have turned out surprisingly well, but he would rather not take the risk. If anything was out of place when this assignment was over, he’d never hear the end of it from Garak.

He set down his padd, abandoning all pretense of studying, and let his thoughts flow freely. He had to admit he was slightly surprised that they had gotten this far. He and Garak had been able to convince Sisko, but Sisko was known to use unconventional methods when warranted. As the captain informed him, Admiral Ross had reluctantly agreed to Garak’s involvement after Sisko made it clear that he gave his approval. He really hadn’t expected the higher-ups in Starfleet Command to agree so easily. But there was a lot riding on the information they were sent to obtain, and Julian knew no one better at obtaining classified information than Garak.

Of course, no one else on DS9 was allowed to know about this assignment. As far as they knew, Sisko had sent Julian on leave because he had been overworking himself. And if Garak happened to be taking a vacation at the same time, well that was just a coincidence. A coincidence that Jadzia had loved to tease him about. _“No, Jadzia, I’m not going to Risa. And no, Garak’s not coming with me,”_ Julian remembered insisting.

The whoosh of the door interrupted his thoughts. A Vulcan entered the room – Dr. Selvik, Julian recalled.

Julian rose from his chair. “How’s he doing?” he asked, trying not to appear anxious.

“The operation was successful,” Dr. Selvik responded with typical Vulcan indifference. “He will experience residual pain, but the triptacederineI I gave him will counteract it. Give him another 5 cc’s in twelve hours.”

“I will,” Julian affirmed, making a mental note of the dosage.

The Vulcan nodded sharply and continued. “Bear in mind that he will only be able to hold his new appearance if he takes hormone suppressors daily,” he informed. “If he stops the treatment, his body will gradually return to its natural state – in a very painful manner.”

That didn’t sound pleasant. “I understand,” Julian nodded. “May I see him?”

Dr. Selvik stepped aside and allowed Julian access to the operating room. In the middle of the room was a biobed that he was sure Garak was on, but it was facing away from him. Making his way around the room, he asked, “Garak? Are you awake?”

A heavily-sedated voice answered him. “Just barely, doctor. How do I look?”

A soft gasp escaped Julian’s lips as he came to stand beside Garak’s bed, taken aback by the familiar eyes peering out of an unfamiliar face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay we're just getting started here but I should list what inspired this story. Andrew Robinson's "A Stitch in Time" (we'll have some characters from there), his short story "The Calling," MKK's fic "Brave New World," (the cosmetic surgery), and Una McCormack's works.


	2. Identity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian and Garak are given new identities.

It was really quite remarkable. If he hadn’t heard that familiar baritone voice or noticed those piercing blue eyes, he wouldn’t have recognized the man before him – the _Human_ before him.

Julian knew he should have been used to the wonder of surgical alterations by now. He had cleaned up the mess the Cardassians made of Kira, after all. It was a complicated process of reconstructing the outward appearance of one species to look like another species, but the theory was simple enough to grasp. Garak’s outside may appear Human, but his internal systems were still very much Cardassian.

Dr. Selvik really did live up to his reputation. His work was _flawless_. Tracing a finger up the smooth forehead that had once been adorned with ridges and that spoon-like crater, Julian marveled at how seamless the skin appeared. There were wrinkles that suited a Human of Garak’s age, but there was no trace of scarring. The eye ridges were also perfectly replaced by brown bushy eyebrows that no longer cast a heavy shadow over his eyes.

The skin itself was incredible, completely void of scales and resembling Human skin down to the last hair follicle. And the hair on Garak’s head…Julian brought his fingers to the hairline, low for a Cardassian but a bit receding for a Human, and inspected the texture. It was softer and finer than Garak’s Cardassian hair (the one time he had touched it) and was a light brown color streaked with the occasional grey.

His fingers moved down to Garak’s jawline, finding it as smooth and scaleless as the rest of his face. Julian was so engrossed in the study of this surgical marvel that it took him a moment to notice the surgical marvel’s eyes staring at him. Realizing just how much he had invaded Garak’s personal bubble, he quickly drew back. “Sorry,” he apologized sheepishly, cheeks reddening.

“You haven’t answered my question, Doctor,” Garak said. There was a thin smile on his lips that didn’t reach his eyes. “But I see I am at least not too repulsive to touch.”

Through Garak’s inquisitive head tilt, Julian could detect the faintest hint of anxiety. It was only natural when one’s appearance was so dramatically altered. “You look…well, different,” he replied, struggling for words. When Garak frowned, he looked around until he spotted a hand mirror on a nearby table. “Here. See for yourself.”

Receiving the mirror, Garak fell silent as he peered at the alien reflection. Julian maintained a respectful distance and allowed the Cardassian to examine his new appearance. Shock wasn’t openly etched on his face as he furrowed his newly-crafted forehead, but Julian could see hints of it in his parted lips and searching eyes. Garak was an expert at controlling his facial expressions, but it seemed he hadn’t entirely mastered this new face.

After a few moments of staring, Garak lifted a hand and rotated it in front of his face, examining the new color and texture. Then he drew that hand all over his face, touching his forehead, his cheeks, his ears, his neck to verify that the mirror was not deceiving him. At length he spoke.

“I think this will suffice,” he said slowly, his tone acknowledging the understatement of his words.

Julian drew a bit closer and gazed over Garak’s shoulder at the tailor’s reflection. “You certainly don’t look like the Garak I know,” he remarked with a light chuckle.

Garak responded with a non-committal grunt as he continued examining his reflection. He brought a hand to the thinning hair on his forehead and touched it curiously. “I don’t presume to know much about Human notions of beauty…but would this be considered attractive?” he asked, gesturing to his face.

Julian’s lips curved into a grin, amused by Garak’s almost vain concern. He turned a critical eye on the reflection in the hand mirror, looking at the face of a very average middle-aged Human. “It fits a man of your age,” he replied teasingly.

“A man of my age?” Garak maneuvered around on the biobed to face Julian, his features alive with exaggerated offense. “Just how old do you think I am, Doctor?”

It was strange seeing that familiar expression on an unfamiliar face, but Julian laughed regardless. “Well from what I can piece together from your stories and your limited medical record, I’d guess somewhere in your early fifties?”

You couldn’t lie to a doctor about your age, but that never stopped Garak from trying. He tutted his denial and said nothing else on the subject, content to continue examining his reflection until Dr. Selvik came and ushered them out.

 

* * *

 

Julian entered the small conference room and found Admiral Ross sitting at one end of the table.

He wasn’t surprised that Garak had been excluded from this meeting. Admiral Ross could hardly be happy about Garak’s involvement in Julian’s assignment, even if he had seen fit to agree to it. There were many reasons why he would not want a former Cardassian spy at the briefing. Perhaps there would even be Federation secrets shared. He would be certain to withhold those from Garak, but he would pass on everything else. They would only be an effective team if they were on the same page.

“It’s good to see you again, Dr. Bashir,” Admiral Ross greeted amiably. “Starfleet Command is pleased you accepted this assignment.”

“Of course, sir,” Julian replied, taking a seat opposite the admiral. “I’m happy to serve Starfleet in any way I can. And with the plague ravaging Cardassia, I’m quite eager to get to work.”

The admiral smiled. “That’s what I admire about you, Doctor.”

The admiral’s relatively easygoing demeanor put Julian at ease, allowing him to speak what was on his mind. “I do have a few questions first.”

“Of course.” Ross nodded for him to proceed.

“I understand I am going to Cardassia Prime as a civilian doctor to work on curing their plague while I keep an eye out for Dominion influence, but where will my base of operations be?” Julian asked. “Have I been assigned to a hospital?”

Admiral Ross produced a padd from his lap and slid it across the tale. “Here. This is all the information you’ll need.”

Julian was a little taken aback as he examined the padd. “Only one padd, sir?” he asked, confusion written plainly on his furrowed brow.

Ross nodded in acknowledgment. “This padd contains the undercover profiles for you and your Cardassian friend,” he explained. “There is also an overview of the current political-economic structure of Cardassia. The rest of the information will be provided in time.”

Julian’s confusion only grew as he skimmed through the files on the data padd, finding exactly and _only_ what Ross had described. This was hardly enough to answer all the questions that had accumulated over the past two weeks. “But, admiral…where are we supposed to go once we arrive on Cardassia Prime?” he asked, putting the padd down. “Is there a contact we’re supposed to meet? Is Gul Dukat the only one communicating with the Dominion, or do you suspect there are others involved as well? And how should I go about investigating Dukat when the Detapa Council has already seen my face?”

“I understand your concerns, Doctor,” the admiral responded before Julian could get another dozen questions out. “But the truth is I have only been given so much information myself. Right now I can only tell you what you need to board that transport in an hour. More information will be given to you once you’re on Cardassia.”

This wasn’t the best news, but Julian nodded in acquiescence. He had enough confidence in Starfleet Command not to push the matter.

Admiral Ross must have seen his disappointment. “But I’ll tell you what I do know,” he offered, folding his hands together. “We have arranged for someone to meet you when your shuttle docks and take you to the hospital you’ve been assigned to in Cardassia City. As for the Detapa Council, all they know is that a transport of Federation civilians has volunteered to provide war relief. They won’t know you’re on Cardassia as long as you stay out of their sight. A fake image has been used on the transport’s passenger manifest. Don’t worry about getting past security when you dock – we’ve taken care of that.”

A thousand different thoughts began swimming through Julian’s brain, but he limited himself to one. “I don’t suppose I can ask how you’ve taken care of that,” he said skeptically.

Admiral Ross smiled under Julian’s questioning gaze. “I wouldn’t be able to tell you, Doctor. I haven’t been given that information,” he answered, shaking his head. “But I have been assured that you will be able to get through without incident.”

Julian shifted in his seat. He would have to get used to not knowing everything, unpleasant as that was to a brain that desired knowledge. And he would have to learn patience.

The admiral seemed to sense his thoughts. “While this may just be a reconnaissance mission, you can see it requires the utmost secrecy,” he stressed. “If the Cardassian government finds any Starfleet operatives on Cardassia, they will assume the worst. You’ll meet your contact but for both your sakes you won’t be able to talk openly about your assignment. Cardassian Intelligence has ears everywhere. Expect to receive all your information on data padds.”

“I understand,” Julian nodded as another question pushed itself to the forefront of his mind. “But isn’t there some sort of training I should have first? I don’t know how Starfleet Intelligence likes to operate, but I hardly feel prepared for this.”

“Don’t worry, Doctor,” Ross reassured him. “Your contact will oversee your training as well. You’ll be in good hands.”

Julian exhaled, a little comforted by that knowledge. “All right.”

Ross stood up at that moment. “Well I believe that covers it. If you need anything, your contact will be your only link to us. I’m afraid direct communication would be too risky. That also means communication with DS9 will be out of the question.”

Julian stood up as well, gathering the only data padd he had been given. “I understand, sir,” he acknowledged, then started for the door.

“One more thing, Doctor.”

Julian turned around, already guessing what the admiral wished to mention, a little surprised it had taken him this long. “It’s about Garak, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Ross confirmed. The friendliness in his features had vanished, replaced by the same sternness Sisko had worn when addressing Garak. “He has earned Sisko’s trust, and that is enough for me to allow his involvement. But I wouldn’t take my eyes off him if I were you. His goals may not be as perfectly aligned with ours as you believe. Whatever happens, don’t let him prevent you from carrying out your duties. Dismissed.”

 

* * *

 

It was just like one of their weekly lunches, Julian mused, except they weren’t in the Replimat and the man seated across from him wasn’t Cardassian.

Okay, he technically _was_ Cardassian, he just didn’t look it.

The civilian transport was more crowded than Julian had been expecting, carrying a wide range of kindhearted professionals who were volunteering their labor to aid a suffering world. It gladdened Julian to see that even though Cardassia wasn’t necessarily their ally, and had had a rough history with them, there were many Federation citizens who felt compassion towards them. He was certain there were members of Starfleet who would gladly help in a more active capacity if not prevented by the Federation’s official neutrality in the Klingon-Cardassian War. Garak could scoff at Federation ideals all he wanted, but it was Federation ideals that brought aid to his people when they were in need.

The mess hall was especially crowded as Julian and Garak ate their lunch. They were lucky enough to find a table in a shadowed corner of the room, offering them enough privacy to talk business. Having already explained what little he learned from Admiral Ross, Julian was currently poring over his undercover profile as he sipped his Tarkalean tea.

“It says here I’m a doctor named Siddig El Fadil, recently graduated from the London Medical Academy,” he read, careful to keep his voice down. “I have lived on Earth my entire life but I yearn for adventure. When I heard of a civilian program that was recruiting professionals to provide aid to war-torn planets, I eagerly signed up.”

Garak nodded in approval as he dabbed his lips with a napkin. “It sounds suitable. The best lies always contain some morsels of truth.” He moved to take another sip of soup, but then set down his spoon to brush a stray hair off his tunic. Then he noticed another strand, his brow furrowing in irritation. “What does it say about this balding Human?” he asked offhandedly.

Julian held back a chuckle. He supposed Garak still had a lot to discover about having a Human exterior. “See for yourself,” he said, offering him the padd.

Garak took the padd, scrolling through the data until he found his profile. “Ah. My name is…An- _drew_ Rob- _in-_ son.” He pronounced every syllable with caution, putting emphasis in all the wrong places.

Garak usually spoke so eloquently that Julian sometimes forgot he was still relatively new to Federation Standard. He vaguely wondered how different Garak would sound if he spoke to him in Kardasi and was filtered through Julian’s universal translator. Oh there were times Garak threw in a Kardasi word here and there that the translator attempted to relay, but Garak had never spoken entire conversations in it. The thought piqued his curiosity, but now that he lacked his combadge, there was no use considering it. Hopefully he’d learn Kardasi himself soon enough.

“What an odd name,” Garak remarked, drawing Julian out of his thoughts. “It appears I am a nurse that you met at the London Medical Academy where I worked as a teaching assistant. We seem to be close friends.”

“Well not all of it can be based on reality,” Julian teased, mouth curling into a cheeky grin.

Garak looked up at him, his eyes wide in exaggerated hurt. “My dear doctor, you wound me.”

Julian just laughed. As much as he’d have liked to consider them close friends, there was still so much he didn’t know about the other man. Good friends, yes, but _close?_ Not yet. Perhaps this mission would change that.

Garak recovered from the insult with remarkable speed and continued reading. “I was born in a Federation colony on Kessik IV, but left when I was older to study medicine on Earth. My parents were human, but my mother died when I was young so my father remarried a Cardassian woman who lived in the colony. My stepmother wasn’t very fluent in Federation Standard, so my father and I learned Kardasi and spoke it around the house.” He set the padd down as his face grew contemplative.

Julian also took a moment to consider the cover story. “Is it likely for a Cardassian to live in a Federation colony?” he asked.

“Not likely, no, but still possible,” Garak replied, pausing for a sip of tea. “Outside of exile, there are those who actually choose such a life, baffling as it sounds. One will occasionally hear rumors of a rebellious Cardassian who settles outside the Cardassian Union for some selfish desire like exploration.”

“Oh yes, such a selfish desire,” Julian cut in sarcastically. Garak ignored him and continued.

“They’re usually denounced and disowned. It’s considered on the same level as treason…but I suppose this is a good enough way to explain a Human who speaks fluent Kardasi…” His voice trailed off as he picked up the padd and continued reading his profile silently.

Julian set down his sandwich and wiped the crumbs off his face. “Which reminds me, I have a lot more studying to do.”

Gladly taking the hint, Garak began drilling him in Kardasi, asking simple questions that might be taught in an “Introduction to Alpha Quadrant Languages” course at the Academy. He answered these easily enough, though Garak had to correct his pronunciation a few times. It was when Garak started introducing more vocabulary, common phrases that Cardassians at the hospital were sure to ask him, that he began struggling. Garak found it most amusing when he confused two similar sounding words and ended up saying that the patient was suffering from acute bathtub.

After a while, Julian started to get the impression that Garak was no longer paying attention. When the tailor didn’t respond to his Cardassian greeting – pronounced perfectly, albeit slowly – he knew Garak was distracted.

“Is something the matter?” he asked in Federation Standard.

Garak glanced surreptitiously at the next table over, his head remaining perfectly still. “I think we’re being watched,” he said softly.

Julian was on full alert now, remembering just what kind of mission he was on. Trying to match Garak’s subtlety, he stole a glance at the offending party. But his shoulders quickly relaxed when he saw the pining smile of an older Human woman. “I think she likes you,” he teased with a grin.

Garak blinked, apparently dumbfounded by the notion. “Impossible. She must be looking at you.”

Julian laughed and stole another glance at the woman. Usually that was the case, but this time he didn’t think so.  She was probably in her fifties, a few silver strands streaking her brown hair. “Perhaps, but I don’t think I’m her type.”

Was Julian imagining it, or was that blush on Garak’s cheeks? Now that he appeared Human, there were certain facial cues that might make him easier to read. “Well. It is certainly odd to be looked upon with anything besides contempt and suspicion,” he observed evenly. “Perhaps there are advantages to this new body.”

Julian raised his eyebrows and smiled mischievously at his friend. “Maybe your new face isn’t as unattractive as you feared.”

Soon they finished their lunches and Garak suggested mingling with the other Federation civilians, stating that you never know what information might end up being useful. Julian, eager to begin any sort of operative training, proved equal to the task.

There was a good variety of professions represented on the transport; doctors, engineers, tradesmen, and traders were quite common. Some of the doctors were also headed to Cardassia City, but many were going to treat battle injuries in the colonies. Julian also learned that the woman staring at Garak was an economics professor specializing in wartime economic depressions in the Alpha Quadrant. She was traveling to Cardassia to conduct research for her next paper, accompanied by her good friend, a Betazoid journalist. None of the information he gathered appeared immediately useful, but he tucked it away in his genetically enhanced memory all the same.

 

* * *

 

Cardassia was only a few days’ journey from the Vulcan science station. Julian spent the time reading and rereading the padd he had been given, committing to memory all of its contents. Garak was also somewhat helpful in supplying information on Cardassia, but he wouldn’t answer all of Julian’s questions so freely, and Julian couldn’t be sure how true his information was.

The war had had disastrous effects on Cardassia’s outer colonies. While Cardassia Prime was in a much more stable state, it had suffered as well. Infrastructure had been devastated, resulting in system-wide scarcity. Then there was the plague. There wasn’t nearly enough information on it to satisfy Julian’s curiosity. The padd only included a brief paragraph explaining how refugees from the colonies were bringing diseases to Cardassia Prime and overwhelming their resources. The Federation had already aided all that they could in an official capacity, sending supplies and industrial replicators.

There was also a few paragraphs on the Detapa Council, the current governing body of the Cardassian Union. During the coup led by Meya Rejal, who was now Chief Executor of the Detapa Council, they seized power from Central Command. This had only been possible because the Obsidian Order had fallen after Enabran Tain’s failed plot with the Tal Shiar. Most of this Julian already knew, and Garak wasn’t eager to supplement this information with any of his knowledge, though he was certain the tailor had strong opinions on the matter. Perhaps his contact would be more forthcoming.

Due to the number of passengers on the transport, Julian and Garak were required to share quarters, a small space barely big enough for a bunk bed. Julian found his bunk even more uncomfortable than his bed on DS9, making it difficult for him to get any rest. Or perhaps it was his racing mind that kept him awake. That was certainly the case on the final night of their journey.

Julian stared at the bland ceiling from his top bunk, lost in thought. Having exhausted the only resource that had been given to him, he began other methods of preparation for the task ahead. He was currently in the process of creating an elaborate backstory for Siddig El Fadil, determined to adopt his new identity in the most convincing way possible. He needed to keep his story straight and full of little details that would make it more authentic, knowing full well that the Cardassians would be looking for any reason to be suspicious of the Human doctor.

Garak wasn’t asleep yet, the light from his padd softly illuminating the room.

“You know, Garak, I think we need to give our new identities more thought,” Julian said, propping his head up on his hand. “We’re going to have to appear as ordinary as possible if we’re going to convince the Cardassians.”

An amused snort came from the bunk below him. “Oh, believe me, Doctor, I am well versed in ‘convincing Cardassians.’”

Julian’s eyes grew wide as he realized how poorly he had phrased that sentiment, as if the Cardassians were the “other.” “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“Think nothing of it,” Garak replied indifferently. “I hardly look Cardassian anymore, so it’s understandable you would forget.”

Eager to put that mistake behind him, Julian returned to the topic at hand. “I was just going to suggest we give ourselves more of a backstory than is on this padd.” He picked up the padd that was resting on his pillow and set it beside Kukalaka. “I already have quite a dramatic one planned for Siddig. I’m thinking he lost the love of his life in a terrible accident and vowed never to love again, or something like that.” He knew it was silly, but something about the darkness emboldened his silly side. “At least that will be my excuse when the Cardassian women throw themselves at me.” As exciting as that sounded, a romantic dalliance would be quite distracting. Perhaps when he had a little more experience…

There was a very cynical scoff beneath him. “Yes, I’m sure they’re all _dying_ to engage in intimate relations with a hairy ridgeless creature such as yourself,” Garak drawled.

Julian snickered, part of him wondering if that’s how Garak really saw him. “Well you’re a ‘hairy ridgeless creature’ now yourself so I doubt you’ll have better luck,” he retorted.

Garak huffed his reply but said nothing else, allowing Julian to continue his musings.

After reviewing their profiles for the umpteenth time, Julian said, “Since we’re supposed to be close friends, I think we should call each other by nicknames.”

“Nicknames?” Garak asked, seemingly unfamiliar with the term.

Julian set his padd aside and folded his arms behind his head, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. “They’re familiar names Humans often give to their friends or relatives,” he explained. “The most common form is a shortened version of one’s first name. I was thinking we could call each other Andy and Sid.”

“Is that really necessary, doctor?” Garak asked. To a Cardassian whose culture reserved given names for family and intimate friends, the concept must have seemed very strange.

“Every detail counts, doesn’t it?”

Garak sighed. “I suppose. Well then, goodnight… _Sid._ ” He snorted as if the name was very ridiculous indeed.

There was a rustling noise as Garak maneuvered himself into a comfortable position, and then the room fell silent. Julian turned over on his side, facing a wall that was just as exciting as the ceiling.

All the specifics that had been floating around his mind – histories, political structures, plans, backstories – fell away as he returned to the big picture. He was on his way to Cardassia to essentially spy on their government. Somehow that didn’t sit right with the voice in the back of his head. Cardassia wasn’t exactly a Federation ally, but they were also currently not an enemy. Starfleet must have heard some very credible rumors if they found it necessary to investigate.

But if the Dominion had a tight enough grasp on Cardassia, they would become enemies of the Federation soon enough. Starfleet obviously wanted to prevent that from happening, or prepare for it if it was inevitable. Dominion control of Cardassia would be catastrophic for the whole quadrant. He supposed that was reason enough to shine light on the plot before it could succeed. And even if the plot did succeed, at least Starfleet would be given more time and information to prepare for the coming war. His assignment was strictly reconnaissance and he couldn’t see much harm in that.

His conscience assuaged for the moment, he thought sleep would come easier now. But still his lids refused to grow heavy, his eyes alert in the darkness. Through the silence he heard only the light breathing of Garak on the bunk below him. Julian idly wondered if he would start snoring. Did Cardassians snore? His respiratory system was still Cardassian, so his Human appearance would have no effect on that trait.

Julian peered through the space between the wall and his bunk at the sleeping man below him. Seeing the middle-aged Human that was stretched out under the covers, harmless and vulnerable-looking in sleep, made it hard to believe this really was the enigmatic Cardassian tailor Julian had grown to admire. It would take him a while to get used to that face.

Suddenly Garak’s eyes flashed open, revealing blue orbs that glinted in the dim light. Julian jolted in surprise.

“If this is your way of spying then I’m afraid Starfleet is doomed,” Garak said, a smile curling his lips.

Julian laughed a little breathlessly, glad that there was darkness to hide his red cheeks. He should have remembered that Cardassians’ eyes were more effective in low light and that Garak was very likely to fake sleeping. Lying back on his back, he stretched his limbs and stared up at the ceiling once more. “I can’t help but feel woefully unprepared for this,” he admitted softly. That thought had been on his mind ever since his initial excitement had faded and it felt good to speak it aloud. “I know Admiral Ross said my contact will train me, but it seems odd that I wasn’t given at least some training before being sent out.”

“Considering the training the Obsidian Order put its probes through, I agree it’s odd,” Garak remarked. “But I don’t pretend to understand the minds of your Federation.”

Julian sighed, his building frustration finally being released. “I don’t even understand _why_ I was chosen. They said it was because of my medical accomplishments and my knowledge of Cardassian culture, but if this assignment really is so important, why entrust it to someone with no intelligence experience?”

There was a moment of silence before Garak responded. “I really couldn’t say,” he said indifferently.

Julian’s eyes traced the pattern on the ceiling as he released a long breath. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but it would probably be much worse if he was alone. “Well at least I have you, Garak,” he said, a small smile brightening his voice.

The deep chuckle that came from Garak’s bunk sent a shiver across Julian’s skin. “My dear Doctor, you disappoint me. I thought I had taught you better than to trust me.”

Julian eventually fell asleep that night, but the dreams that kept him company were vague and disconcerting. Before long he was awoken by the computer’s voice announcing that they had just come into orbit around Cardassia Prime.


	3. Cardassia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian and Garak get settled in.

The public transporter station was bustling with activity when they beamed down from the civilian transport. Like Admiral Ross had promised, they were ushered through customs without issue, despite the fact that the image on Siddig El Fadil’s passenger profile didn’t match Julian’s face. It was something to puzzle out at a later time.

The group of Federation civilians turned a lot of Cardassian heads inside the station. Besides the doctors that had been dropped off at the colonies in the DMZ, they had all come to Cardassia Prime to provide aid in their respective fields. Whether or not the average Cardassian was willing to accept foreign aid remained to be seen. As he received a few looks of mistrust and outright disgust, Julian wondered why Starfleet hadn’t surgically altered him to appear Cardassian. It would have been less conspicuous.

The other volunteers seemed to know where they were assigned, and with a few friendly words of parting, they went their separate ways. Julian was left with only Garak at his side, a little overwhelmed by the unfamiliarity of it all. The transporter station seemed like a maze, a thousand signs pointing in every direction in the jagged Kardasi alphabet that Julian had only just learned.

He was turning to speak to his silent companion when a woman approached them.

“Excuse me, are you Dr. El Fadil?”

Julian looked up at the sound of his new name spoken with Kardasi articulation. “Yes, that’s me,” he replied.

The woman smiled and turned her eyes on Garak. “And you must be Nurse Robinson. I’ve been sent by Central Hospital to escort you to your apartment. I’m Nurse Lin Telma.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Julian returned, pronouncing his Kardasi a little carefully. He automatically offered his hand to shake, but then recalled the traditional Cardassian greeting when Nurse Telma offered her palm. Fumbling, he managed to salvage the palm-press, albeit awkwardly. “Andy and I are happy to be welcome on Cardassia Prime.” He knew his Kardasi was far from eloquent, but she seemed to understand him at least.

Garak didn’t miss a beat. “Yes, we have heard so much about the effects of the war that Sid here with his _enormous_ heart ended up volunteering and dragging me along,” he explained, pointing at Julian in mild exasperation. They all shared a short laugh.

“Well we are grateful for your help,” Telma said, nodding graciously.

A pair of scowling men chose that moment to walk by. From their gray and silver uniforms, Julian assumed they were Cardassian police.

“At least the hospital staff is, anyway,” Telma said, frowning at the men. “Don’t mind the looks. They’ll die down once people realize you’re only here to help.”

Though they had packed light and were perfectly capable of carrying their luggage, Telma insisted on helping them with it as they made their way out of the station. Julian was a little surprised to find such hospitality from a Cardassian, but quickly chided himself for thinking that. He didn’t know how much the nurse knew, but she seemed to be an ally.

When they stepped out into the warm air, Julian found himself in the heart of the Union. Skimmers and pedestrians streamed by in bustling rivers while lights from public viewscreens illuminated the gray buildings and gloomy sky. For a world suffering from disease and war, its metropolitan capitol seemed to go on business as usual.

Julian surveyed the alien landscape and felt his previous excitement return. This was really happening.

They boarded a public shuttle that was crowded with tired looking people. It was already early evening on Prime, the perfect time to get stuck in traffic with countless others desperate for the comforts of home.

There was an uptick in whispering as they squeezed into their seats at the back of the shuttle. The way people were staring, you would think they had never seen a Human before. Maybe they hadn’t.

Looking around, Julian noticed that a few of the Cardassians had silver sanitary masks covering their noses and mouths. A precaution due to the plague, most likely. His gaze wandered to the window as the shuttle began to move. Telma, having taken the seat in front of them, turned around to speak.

“I take it this is your first time on Prime?”

Julian had little time to nod before she launched into a typical Cardassian monologue.

“Cardassia City can be a little confusing to navigate at first, but you’ll get used to it. The city is divided into seven sectors. Right now we are passing through Barvonok, the financial hub of Prime. We’ll be heading into Torr where your apartment is located. Central Hospital is in the Tarlak Sector in the center of the city. That’s where most of the government administrative buildings are so you can’t miss it. Then there is the residential neighborhoods of Paldar…”

Julian’s gaze drifted back out the window as Telma spoke, watching the city go by. He was here mainly to observe, so he might as well start now. Hints of crimson were beginning to light up the sky, a prelude to the glorious red sunsets Garak had told him about. It would be a welcome contrast to the gloom he had seen so far.

Soon the tall office buildings gave way to residential neighborhoods and small shops where pedestrians were milling about in a less hurried fashion. They must be in Torr now. Julian quickly found a more charming character in this part of the city than he had seen so far. The architecture was less brutalist and austere. The people seemed friendlier to one another.

Unlike the transport station and Barvonok, the effects of war were more conspicuous here, even at first glance. Every other streetlamp was flickering feebly to life and most of the public viewscreens were blank. Only a few remained on, broadcasting some smiling, official-looking Cardassian. They passed by an open air market where long lines weaved among stalls that didn’t look like they had enough to feed everyone.

When the shuttle stopped to pick up more passengers, Julian took note of a couple interesting pedestrians. They were wearing full face masks quite different to the sanitary masks of the people on the shuttle.

“What are those respiratory masks that some people are wearing?” he asked Telma as the shuttle lurched into motion.

“They’re dust masks. It’s a little early to be wearing them since the major dust storms don’t hit until summer, but those with sensitive lungs tend to start wearing them earlier,” the nurse explained.

They went on in conversation for the rest of the ride, Telma providing them with more little facts about the city. Garak most likely knew them all, but he acted pleasantly interested nonetheless. The man’s lying ability was really one to be admired. He was the picture of a fascinated Human tourist. Julian would have to start taking notes.

Throughout the conversation, Julian was surprised to find that his Kardasi wasn’t as abysmal as he had feared. Nurse Telma seemed to understand what he was saying, and he understood most of what she was saying. There were a few words here and there that he would need to ask Garak about later, but overall he could hold a decent conversation. He could also understand Garak fairly well, realizing that his friend was perhaps even more eloquent in Kardasi than Standard.

They had made it nearly across the sector when Telma announced that this was their stop. The Cardassian nurse again insisted on carrying their luggage as they disembarked. As she led the way down the bustling walkway, Julian’s head kept turning in all directions as he tried to take everything in. The sights, the sounds, and the smells were all foreign to him, making it difficult for his senses to keep up. At one point he caught a whiff of something familiar as they walked past an inviting café. Redleaf tea. The scent was stronger than the replicated blend he was used to. Times might be tough in this sector, but they didn’t seem completely devoid of little luxuries.

Sweat was starting to accumulate on his brow, the early evening heat proving too much for Julian’s comfort. After a brisk ten minute walk, they finally stopped at the end of a rather secluded side street. There was an unassuming building standing before them, only four stories tall and colored in a drab tan.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t secure more comfortable accommodations,” Telma said quickly, her tone almost embarrassed. “But with all the refugees from the colonies coming into the city, we’re short on housing and this was all we could find.”

Julian ran his gaze up the unimpressive building and smiled. “No, this is perfect,” he assured her. “We wouldn’t want to be a drain on your resources.”

“I have lived in much worse conditions on Kessik IV. I can assure you we will be comfortable,” Garak added graciously.

“Thank you for understanding,” Telma said with a smile. “Well, I’ll let you get settled in tonight. I’ll be back in the morning to take you to Central Hospital.” She handed them their luggage. “I’m sure you’re quite eager to see where you’ll be working. And I’ll introduce you to the best doctor in the Union.”

 

* * *

 

Their apartment was a tiny cluster of rooms on the third floor, tucked away behind a stairwell. A perfect out of the way location if Julian ever saw one. After he entered the code Telma had given them, the door slid open to grant them entrance to their new abode.

The main living area was the picture of frugality, furnished only with the necessities. The design was less ornate than Deep Space 9, but just as angular. The walls were dark and the orange sconces provided only dim light, though if this was out of economy or just what Cardassian eyes preferred, Julian didn’t know. At least there weren’t any odd smells.

Leaving his luggage by the door, Julian started walking around the little room. He was surprised to find a replicator in the corner, but it looked in serious need of maintenance. Miles would have been heartbroken to see such a sorry looking piece of technology. The console looked in better condition, which was fortunate since he figured he would need it for much of his intelligence gathering. There was also a rather worn couch in the middle of the room.

After Garak had taken a turn about the room, he took interest in the replicator and began examining it more closely. Julian had no doubt that some of his handy “tailoring” skills would prove useful in repairing it.

A data padd on the side table caught Julian’s attention. Immediately interested, he plopped down on the couch and started devouring its information.

Again he was disappointed. It was from his contact, but much like the last padd, this one didn’t include nearly enough to answer all his questions. It didn’t even tell him who his contact was. Was it Nurse Telma, or someone he would meet at the hospital? He would have to continue being patient, it seemed.

For all its faults, the padd wasn’t entirely useless. It did explain their living situation. Their apartment was fully paid for, but it came with very limited resources. There was not much water to go around the building, so they would only have enough to stay hydrated. There was also a ration that limited the amount of energy they could use on a weekly basis. If they could get the replicator to work, they were allowed a small number of replicator credits to use each week. Now it was clear why Starfleet had sent them with an abundance of disgusting field rations.

The padd ended with a paragraph explaining where a couple of phasers were hidden behind a false wall panel. It cautioned him to only use them in emergencies, as things would get ugly if he was caught carrying weapons on Cardassia. The last sentence reminded him not to openly discuss any of this with his contact…whoever that was.

When Julian got up to search for the phasers’ hiding place, he noticed a set of transparent doors on the opposite wall leading to a small balcony. The view was less than spectacular, he realized as he walked out the doors. Most of it was obscured by the neighboring building, an imposing wall that blocked out the sun. Only a sliver of crimson sky was visible to its left, but it alone was quite striking.

He hadn’t heard Garak approach, but suddenly the tailor was beside him.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Now that they were in private, Garak had returned to speaking in Federation Standard, probably for Julian’s benefit. Julian craned his neck to get a better view of the obscured sunset. The brilliant crimson that streamed through the cityscape was indeed a sight to behold. “It’s amazing,” he marveled.

They stood in companionable silence for a moment, a warm, dry breeze sweeping past them. Julian watched the once very Cardassian man from the corner of his eye, trying to see beyond his impenetrable mask. It seemed Garak had quickly gained mastery over his new face.

After a moment, Julian broke the silence. “How does it feel to finally be home?” he asked quietly.

Garak’s response was stranger than Julian had expected. He didn’t look at Julian or say anything, his shoulders tensing slightly as he left the balcony and returned inside, a baffled Julian following behind him.

“Your first lesson, Doctor,” Garak said simply after the door closed behind them. He began walking around the room, eyes sweeping over every corner as he moved. He paused at the blank viewscreen on the wall and opened up a panel on its side, punching in a string of numbers. A barely audible whir was silenced. Then he moved to a sconce which he detached from the wall, removing a small, flat device from behind it. Keeping this in his palm, he continued his sweep until he had examined every object and panel in the room, noting the location of the weapons with little surprise. Finding nothing else, he turned back to Julian.

He crushed the little device in between his fingers before speaking. “You must be careful what you say, Dr. Bashir. You never know who could be listening.”

Julian’s mouth hung partially open as everything clicked. It hadn’t even crossed his mind that their apartment might be bugged. Damnit, he really wasn’t prepared for this...

Garak’s use of his real name led him to believe it was safe to talk candidly. “Does someone already suspect us?”

Garak shook his head. “It’s unlikely,” he replied, raising an eyebrow when Julian visibly relaxed. “They might not suspect you’re a spy, but I doubt anyone is very eager to trust a Human. And though the Order may be gone, most of its infrastructure is still in place.”

Garak had his lecturing face on, but his new human features made him look less like lunch companion Garak and more like a condescending professor Julian remembered from the Academy. “Then won’t someone become suspicious when their surveillance of our apartment is cut off?” he asked in his best know-it-all student voice.

Garak was still capable of reptilian smiles, Julian discovered. It was all in the eyes.

“That’s the beauty of the new ‘Cardassian Intelligence Bureau,’ my dear Doctor,” Garak replied, articulating the agency’s name with a bit of distaste. “It’s inefficient and undermanned. Without regular maintenance, much of their equipment will be left to break down. Which is greatly beneficial to us now.” He paused a moment to ponder before turning back to Julian with a frown. “Still. Take care what you say and where you say it. Our apartment may be safe now, but there’s no way of knowing what surveillance devices are still operational out there.”

Julian nodded, sobered by the gravity in Garak’s voice. He promised himself he wouldn’t be so careless next time. A thick silence fell between them.

At length Garak spoke. “This wasn’t the homecoming I imagined,” he said softly, his gaze on the last rays of crimson peeking out from behind the neighboring building.

Surprised by the honesty in those words, Julian remained silent. What could he say to a man who had finally returned home as an alien to be greeted with suspicion? Julian hadn’t realized just how much those stares affected a person until he was on the receiving end today. Garak had been experiencing this for years on DS9…

“Ah, but things hardly ever turn out as one imagines,” Garak said. His smile returned, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He then left the room to inspect the remainder of the apartment, leaving Julian alone with his thoughts.

He was hardly alone for long when Garak’s voice came from the other room.

“It seems someone is under the impression that ‘Andy’ and ‘Sid’ are _very_ close friends indeed.”

Following the sound of Garak’s voice, Julian found his friend in the apartment’s only bedroom. His confusion dissipated when he noticed the sole bed in the middle of the room.

“There’s only one bed.”

“Astute observation, Doctor.”

“Well Telma did say there’s a housing shortage…” Julian mentioned, looking around the room. The bed was as old as the rest of the furniture, but it looked just as comfortable as Julian’s bed back on DS9, which wasn’t saying much. And it looked big enough for two. There was a practical solution to this, he just wasn't sure what Garak would think. “You know, Garak... Human friends will sometimes share a bed under certain circumstances. It’s not always considered intimate.”

Garak looked at Julian as if he had a transparent skull. “I’ll take the couch,” he said, turning to leave.

Realizing he probably offended some Cardassian sensibility, Julian reached out to stop Garak. “No, you don’t have to do that. You take the bed. I can sleep on the couch,” he offered.

Garak turned around as Julian released his shoulder. “Really, Doctor, I must insist,” he replied pleasantly. “The couch wouldn’t comfortably accommodate someone of your height.”

“I’m not that much taller than you, Garak,” Julian countered. Only five centimeters actually.

Garak said no more as he walked into the living room and plopped his luggage down on the couch.

“Fine, have it your way,” Julian relented, laughing at Garak’s obstinacy. If Garak wanted to wake up every morning with a sore back, that wasn’t his problem. As he brought his luggage into his new bedroom, he couldn’t help but find it odd that the man who had practically ogled him when they first met was refusing the chance to share a bed. He would never understand that plain, simple tailor.

 

* * *

 

The next morning Julian woke up with a cranky disposition and a body drenched in sweat. Cardassia was _hot_.

He hadn’t been able to sleep with any blankets, tossing and turning as he tried to find any shred of comfort on the hard Cardassian mattress. The couch may have been softer, but Julian suspected it was also warmer, making him glad Garak had insisted on taking it.

He had ended up sleeping naked, abandoning the thin pajamas that felt like a Vitarian wool bodysuit in the heat. As he looked in the mirror at the sheer layer that covered his skin, he cursed the energy ration that prevented them from using any cooling system or taking a sonic shower more than once a week. This wasn’t going to be pleasant. He could hardly believe it was still spring.

“First priority – finish this assignment before summer hits,” he muttered as he pulled on a plain set of clothes.

He wasn’t surprised to find his Cardassian companion bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as they breakfasted on ration bars and some tea Garak whipped up with the patched-up replicator. He was finally in an environment that suited his ectothermic blood.

When Nurse Telma came to escort them to the hospital, it wasn’t how Julian had expected. A skimmer, not as luxurious as the ones he saw in Barvonok, but still far from run-down, pulled up outside of their apartment block and Telma poked her head out.

As they boarded the vehicle, Julian found the interior large enough to fit about four passengers comfortably.

“The hospital lets me borrow a skimmer whenever one’s available,” Telma explained, glancing back at them before starting off. “It’s a nice change to public transit, isn’t it?”

Garak was gazing out his window at the stream of pedestrians flooding the walkways. “Yes. I’d hate to think what being crammed in with all those people day after day does to your health,” he said with a shudder.

Telma chuckled lightly. “There’s been quite a public health concern since the first case of Rudellian plague appeared on Prime,” she explained. “You two have been vaccinated, haven’t you?”

“Yes, we were vaccinated before we arrived,” Julian replied. On the civilian transport they had received all the vaccines they needed to be allowed on the planet, including the one that was recently developed to counteract the plague’s new strain.

“Good. There’s only been a few known cases since the refugees from Pentath III arrived, despite our best quarantine efforts…” Telma sighed in visible frustration. “But you can never be too careful. People are on edge and we can only replicate the vaccine so fast with our limited resources. But thanks to the replicators Starfleet provided, we should be able to increase our output.”

A few more minutes passed before the skimmer drew to a halt and the three of them stepped out.

Central Hospital was a large, angular building similar in design to the skyscrapers that surrounded it, only shorter and wider. Slender black trees lined the white walkway in front, their coppery leaves providing mild respite from the bright sun. There were no clouds today to lessen its glare.

Glancing around at the surrounding buildings, Julian felt a little exposed. Tarlak was the administrative district, he remembered, so one of these stately structures must house the Detapa Council. He needed to stay out of their sight, and wondered, not for the first time, if his contact would have any ideas how.

Luckily Telma led them inside before a councilmember could materialize and blow his cover. Before they had gone far, she stopped in the foyer and handed them each a sanitary mask like Julian had seen on the shuttle.

“We wear these around the hospital now,” she explained. “As a precaution.”

As Julian slipped on the mask over his mouth and nose, he felt a little bit safer.

She led them through a maze of winding halls, Julian idly wondering if everything in the city was maze. The walls were all a somber dark color, but the lights were brighter than at their apartment. Every waiting area they passed was teeming with people, and every person they passed, whether staff or patient, was also wearing a mask. It seemed a little primitive, but with an airborne plague and a crippled economy, he supposed it was all they could do to keep everyone healthy.

Telma stopped at a door and tapped the chime, waiting until there was a faint murmur from inside. She pressed the door panel before ushering Julian and Garak across the threshold.

The room appeared to be an office, but it was nearly the size of DS9’s infirmary. Padds and various devices were scattered haphazardly on top of the desks and counters. The lighting was a little lower than the hallway and it took Julian’s eyes a second to adjust.

When he could see clearly again, his gaze landed on the office’s occupant as he stood up and approached them.

“Ah, I was wondering when Telma would show up with you two. Please come in and make yourselves comfortable. I’m Dr. Kelas Parmak.”

He offered his palm to Garak, but Garak just stared at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I try to update every Sunday, so tune in next week for Parmak, some research, and a sonic shower. ;)


	4. Parmak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian and Garak meet the best doctor in the Union, and Julian gets the shower he's been waiting for all week.

Dr. Parmak was an intelligent-looking Cardassian, probably around the same age as Garak, and roughly the same height, if not slightly taller. But that’s where the similarities ended.

Presumably Parmak’s office was sterile since he wasn’t wearing a sanitary mask, displaying features that were more refined than Garak’s. His hair was also longer than most of the male Cardassians Julian had seen. It was currently tied back, probably to keep it out of the way while he worked. There was professionalism and confidence in his demeanor, but when Garak seemed to hesitate, there was a flash of something in his eyes that Julian could not identify.

Garak took off his sanitary mask and smiled disarmingly. “Ah, I apologize. I’ve been on Earth so long that I’m afraid this is no longer second nature to me,” he said, pressing his palm to Dr. Parmak’s. “Nurse Andrew Robinson.”

Parmak’s smile returned as he eyed his Human guest. “So you’re familiar with the Cardassian greeting then?” he asked, sounding pleasantly surprised.

“Yes, my stepmother was Cardassian,” Garak explained.

Parmak’s eyes widened slightly, but his smile remained friendly. “Ah, that explains why your Kardasi sounds flawless.”

Having taken off his own sanitary mask, Julian stepped forward and introduced himself. “I’m Dr. Siddig El Fadil, and my Kardasi is far from flawless,” he said with a self-deprecating laugh. “But that’s why I have Andy here.” Listening to Garak and Parmak speak, he knew his accent was thick and awkward in comparison.

Garak turned to him with eyes excessively wide. “And here I thought you wanted me for my charming personality,” he said in hyperbolic offense. Then he turned to Dr. Parmak. “Sid only started learning Kardasi a few weeks ago, so please excuse anything inappropriate he might say.”

Parmak let out a chuckle. “Well, Dr. El Fadil, you’re speaking quite well for someone who’s only been at it for a few weeks. Humans must learn remarkably fast!”

 _Only the genetically-enhanced ones,_ Julian thought bleakly. He only hoped Garak had made the same assumption as Parmak.

“But you’ll become fluent in no time,” Parmak assured him. “Immersion is the best teacher, after all.”

Julian had almost forgotten that Nurse Telma was in the room until she spoke. “Well, I should be getting back to my work. I’ll see you two around the hospital.”

After Telma had excused herself, Parmak offered them a seat around the table in the center of the room. He quickly cleared the padds and data rods off it as he apologized. “Please excuse the mess, it’s been so hectic around here and there just aren’t enough hours in the day.” After he had deposited the items onto an equally cluttered counter, he turned back to them. “Would you care for some tea?”

“Redleaf tea would be lovely,” Garak replied as they sat down. Julian voiced his agreement.

Parmak moved to a small replicator that was tucked away on the wall between two cabinets. “I see your tastes are as refined as your Kardasi, Nurse Robinson,” the doctor observed with approval. He tapped a few buttons on the replicator. “With how busy we’ve all been here, we’re at least fortunate enough to enjoy the comfort of tea every so often.”

As Parmak fiddled with the replicator, Julian eyed him curiously. He hadn’t outright introduced himself as their contact, but after what Ross had said about their need for secrecy, that wasn’t too surprising. Parmak was Cardassian after all, and Cardassians were not known for their straightforwardness. Julian folded his hands together, waiting patiently for the conversation to progress.

“How are you finding Cardassia?” Dr. Parmak asked conversationally.

“Hot,” was the first word out of Julian’s mouth before he could string together some sort of compliment.

Garak’s mouth stretched into a poorly concealed smile. “And a bit dusty,” he added, clearing his throat in illustration.

Parmak didn’t seem to take it as an insult, smiling sympathetically as he stirred a strange crystalized sweetener into his tea. “Yes, that’s usually what offworlders say when they first come here…when they come here at all,” he said. “I’m afraid it only gets worse from here. The temperature will keep rising, and then the real dust storms will move in. If the dust is already bothering you, I can give you a couple respiratory masks to wear when you’re outside.”

Ah, so he _did_ have a plan for hiding Julian’s face in public. Very clever. “We’d like that,” Julian replied knowingly.

Parmak started back to the table with three mugs perched precariously in his arms. “You’ve probably already noticed that we’re not very accustomed to having offworlders on Prime. But despite what others might say, I want you to know that I’m grateful for your help, as well as the Federation’s. Their replicators have already sped up our operations here.” His smile was bright with gratitude as he set their tea on the table and took a seat. Then his face grew more serious. “Now shall we discuss what you’ll be doing here?”

Julian perked up, straightening in his chair. Finally he would get some answers. “That would be great,” he said, his tone slightly relieved. “I’m still a little confused on the specifics of my job here.”

Parmak took a sip of tea before replying. “Ah, then let me clear up your confusion,” he offered, wrapping his hands around his mug in a way Julian had often seen Garak do. It was probably to draw warmth from it, which Julian found ridiculous when Prime had an overabundance of heat. But he brushed that thought aside to focus on the doctor’s words.

“Your responsibilities will be very specific,” Parmak continued. “There’s a lot more to be done here, but you’ll only need to focus on your task. The rest of us will continue to manage everything else. And you needn’t worry about the Council.”

Julian blinked, a little lost. “The Council?” he asked. Did Parmak mean he didn’t need to worry about being discovered by them?

Dr. Parmak idly tapped his fingers on his mug. “I’m the personal physician to most of the Detapa Council members, so much of my time is devoted to their wellbeing,” he explained. Leaning in closer, he glanced around before speaking again, his voice lower. “It doesn’t allow me nearly enough time to take care of those who are _actually_ suffering the most,” he said, frustration surprisingly evident in his voice. “That’s why you’ll be responsible for the patients in quarantine on the seventh floor. And you, Nurse, will assist him.”

Oh, so Parmak was explaining his medical duties first. “Ah. The plague,” Julian nodded.

“Yes, the Rudellian plague.” Parmak’s voice had returned to normal volume. “It had once claimed the lives of 100 million people, but we naively considered it ancient history,” he explained, shaking his head. “But it’s come back, I’m afraid, in a mutated strain immune to our treatments. The devastation of Pentath III invited a swarm of voles that were infected with parasites carrying the _rudeli petis_ bacteria.”

Julian opened his mouth to comment on the nature of the bacteria when Garak set down his mug and spoke.

“Hygiene must have been quite poor after all the attacks on the colonies,” he said, folding his hands together. “Only one person needed to be bitten by a vole for it to spread through inhalation of infectious respiratory droplets.”

Julian tried to prevent his surprise from manifesting on his face. Garak had stolen the words out of his mouth. Either the tailor had diligently studied the medical journals Julian had given him to read on the transport, or medicine was just another thing he had picked up while “hemming trousers.” Whatever it was, at least Garak came prepared.

“That’s correct,” Parmak agreed. “I have managed to develop a vaccine, but the cure still eludes me. And with how slowly we’ve been able to replicate the vaccine, there are many people who are still at risk. We have quite a long waitlist, I’m afraid. We need to develop a cure before it can become another largescale epidemic.” He turned his gaze to Julian. “That’s where you come in. I’ve been told you have quite a gift for finding cures.”

Julian studied the Cardassian doctor carefully. From how it sounded, Parmak was just describing the Rudellian plague as any doctor would. But if he had learned anything from Garak, it was that the true meaning of Cardassian words lay in their subtext. “I’ve been successful a time or two,” he replied after a sip of tea. Though he had waited for it to cool down, it was still too warm for this environment. The hospital was cooler than outside, but not enough for his liking.

“He’s just being modest, Doctor,” Garak cut in. “Sid’s antibiotic to treat tanizon fever shocked all the professors at London Medical Academy.”

Parmak’s lips stretched into a grin. “Then you’re just the man we need,” he declared, taking a final sip of tea before standing up. “Well then, now that I’ve thoroughly talked your ears off…are you ready to begin your training?”

 

* * *

 

As exciting as beginning his training sounded, Julian soon learned that, yet again, it was not what he had expected. Though the challenge of curing a plague was indeed stimulating, he was just as eager to start on the other aspect of his assignment, an aspect Parmak had yet to mention as he guided him around the hospital that week.

So far his training had been strictly medical, going over how the hospital operated. Julian had to pretend he didn’t have over three years of experience with Cardassian-designed medical technology. The lessons on Cardassian physiology proved more useful, as he had not learned much from his cagy Cardassian friend and the purged database the former occupants of DS9 had left him. After that he was taken to the seventh floor to meet the three patients who were in quarantine. They were definitely infected with Rudellian plague, but were all at different stages in the disease. One patient, an old farmer from Pentath III, was in the worst condition, suffering from frequent hallucinations caused by hypoxia. The other two – a man and a woman – were still in the early stages, experiencing only coughing fits and occasional fevers. The woman had never been to Pentath III but had contracted the plague from one of the refugees. There had been two patients before them who had fought the disease for two months before succumbing to it.

The plague was essentially a bacterial lung infection, but its mutation made it impervious to current antibiotics. Julian started eagerly devouring all the research he could get his hands on, including Parmak’s vaccine. It seemed like the logical place to start. He knew he couldn’t come up with the cure overnight, so he divided his time between research and administering care to his three patients. The old man needed to be heavily medicated to keep his hallucinations from turning violent. The other two’s symptoms were easy to mitigate with regular hypos that Garak administered.

He quickly learned what made Central Hospital very Cardassian, namely how their vaccine waitlist was organized. Prominent politicians were given top priority, followed by military leaders and other wealthy and powerful persons. Those who were most at risk – residents of the poorer neighborhoods in Torr – were not even treated at this hospital. They were forced to make do with the under-resourced free hospital in Torr. Central Hospital basically only treated patients from Paldar and Coranum because of the priority they were given, the only exceptions being Julian’s infected patients. When Julian learned this, he was a little angry and wished he had been sent to Torr’s hospital instead. But Parmak – and Starfleet – had other plans for him. And practically speaking, only Central had the resources he needed for his research.

At least his Kardasi was quickly improving. He had yet to diagnose anyone with acute bathtub.

Whenever Julian had a moment between his medical duties he would hole up in his office and focus on a different kind of research, glad to be free of his sanitary mask for a few minutes. He diligently began sifting through the hospital’s database and the publically available information from the comnet, studying all the data that he could access. He found that his access to the hospital’s records was not very restricted. Medical records for all current members of the Detapa Council, Central Command, and the Civilian Assembly were available for him to examine. Only a few records were available for the leaders of the Cardassian Intelligence Bureau, but that didn’t surprise him. He didn’t know exactly what he was looking for, other than information on Dukat (whose medical record was stellar), but he needed to do _something_ to begin his operative work.

Parmak hadn’t yet seen fit to explain how Julian was to gather intelligence. Either he wanted to get the plague dealt with first, or he just enjoyed being maddeningly cryptic – quite like Admiral Ross in that regard. He remembered Ross’ words though and didn’t try to bring the matter up. The hospital probably had plenty of surveillance devices like the ones Garak had found in their apartment. He wouldn’t be surprised if Parmak’s own office was bugged. And there were always other doctors, nurses, or patients around. Still, he would have liked a nudge in the right direction. He hadn’t received any more padds since his arrival and Parmak didn’t make any attempt to meet outside of work. The lack of answers frustrated Julian to no end. If he didn’t have Garak, he might have torn his hair out.

Garak had offered his “tailoring” services to gain remote access to as many governmental computer systems as he could without drawing suspicion. He worked on this using their apartment console because it would have been unwise to attempt at the hospital. So far he had been able to access a few classified Central Command databases and some surveillance devices in the Assembly Hall but hadn’t learned anything relevant. Julian didn’t know how Garak had managed this, and Garak wasn’t keen on offering him the details. His goal was to access Dukat’s personal console at Central Command Headquarters, but insisted it was a delicate operation that would require more time.

Julian was currently spending his lunchbreak in his office, finishing up his review of the Detapa Council’s medical records. Garak was helping the other nurses administer vaccines to the lucky people at the top of today’s waitlist, so he was alone. Skimming through the files, he recognized most of the names and faces from when the Council had beamed aboard the _Defiant._ He had given them all blood screenings so unless a Founder just started impersonating one very recently, it was unlikely any of them were the Changeling Dukat was allegedly communicating with.

When he came to the file on Bremik Pelor, he paused. There was a face he didn’t recognize.

Councillor Bremik Pelor served as the liaison between the Detapa Council and Central Command, Julian learned as he read on. He had come into that position rather recently, replacing Eskin Gruner who had resigned after his son was killed on the battlefield. Cardassian medical records were _quite_ comprehensive, Julian mused. But what was perhaps most notable was that he hadn’t had a blood test or examination in over two years.

Julian’s face lit up as he moved in closer to the screen. If anyone on the Council was a Dominion infiltrator, all evidence pointed to Pelor. It made sense that Dukat’s Changeling would be someone of high enough position to help back Dukat’s plan. Dukat wasn’t stupid enough to move for Cardassia’s admittance into the Dominion alone.

His first major lead, and he hadn’t even needed assistance from Parmak or Garak! Perhaps he had been underestimating his intelligence-gathering abilities.

If he could only confirm that Pelor was the Changeling, he could give Starfleet the evidence they needed to justify war preparations, or even expose Dukat and the Changeling to the rest of the Council, which could stop the war before it started…But did that overstep the bounds of his assignment?

Parmak would know what to do. Leaving his half-eaten lunch in front of his console, he went in search of the Cardassian doctor.

Fortunately Parmak was in his office when Julian stopped by. He greeted Julian with his usual friendliness, a friendliness that appeared more genuine than Garak’s usual blend of affability and ambiguity. Other Cardassians were not much like Garak, he was discovering.

“Ah, Dr. El Fadil. Can I help you with something?”

Julian took a moment to consider his words, glancing at the newsscreen that was quietly babbling in the background. “I was just going through some medical records on my lunchbreak and I found that Councillor Pelor hasn’t had an exam in quite some time,” he began carefully. “With all that’s been happening, don’t you think he should come in for a check-up? Has he been vaccinated yet?”

Parmak set down his padd. “Ah, yes, Pelor…He’s a difficult case, I’m afraid,” he said with a sigh. “I’ve sent him many reminders urging him to come in, even offering to go to him, but the poor man suffers from a bit of iatrophobia.”

How convenient. Julian still wasn’t used to this whole “between the lines” way of communicating, pausing between every few phrases to choose his words carefully. “I see…but if he hasn’t been vaccinated, aren’t you worried he might end up spreading the plague? …And with his prominent position on the Council, isn’t that even more… dangerous? Perhaps if you spoke to Chief Executor Rejal, she might make it mandatory. I doubt she would want anyone on the Council falling ill.”

Parmak met his gaze. “Yes, that would be most unfortunate,” he agreed thoughtfully. “The Council has been overstretched as it is. I see your point, Doctor. I will talk to Rejal.”

Satisfied, Julian donned his sanitary mask and left to finish the remainder of his shift in the lab, testing a few hypotheses that ultimately led nowhere.

Once his shift had ended, Julian left the lab to collect Garak. Today they were on the same schedule and he was quite eager to go home and relax after a long day of research, and to tell Garak what he had learned. As he headed down the corridor toward the nurses station Garak was assigned to, he heard Telma’s voice and felt a pang of sympathy for Garak. As much as Garak loved to talk, that nurse ran circles around him in comparison. At least he was finally getting a taste of his own medicine.

“Dr. Parmak is on a house call right now,” he heard Telma say as he approached. “To Alon Ghemor. He’s the nephew of Tekeny Ghemor. Have you heard of him? He was the original leader of the dissident movement, but he was forced into exile before the Council got back into power. He’s been the subject of much controversy lately. Some people believe he should be Chief Executor and are _quite_ desperate to bring him home…Oh hello, Dr. El Fadil.”

Garak’s polite expression looked rather strained when Julian saw him, but there was a flash of relief when their eyes met. “Ah, Sid, you’re here at last,” he said with a brightness that wasn’t in his eyes.

Julian smiled under his mask and patted Garak on the back, a friendly Human gesture he hoped Cardassians wouldn’t find _too_ obscene. “Ready to go home, Andy?”

“Quite ready.”

 

* * *

 

Julian all but sighed in relief when he and Garak reached their apartment. It was the end of the week, which meant he could finally take his weekly allowed sonic shower. After seven days of living in a sticky, dust-covered body, Julian was more than eager to finally clean himself. The sanitary wipes he had packed were a sorry substitute for standing under cool, relaxing pulses as the dirt and grime fell away from his body. He had been looking forward to this moment since the first sweat-drenched night he had spent here.

After laying out a fresh, comfortable set of clothes to lounge around in for the rest of the evening, he went to the console to check the apartment’s power levels, curious to know how long he could relax in the shower before giving Garak his turn. When he saw the computer’s readings, a part of him wanted to cry.

“How did we get so low on power?” he asked in dismay.

Garak, who had finished his evening sweep for surveillance devices, was on the couch rummaging through his belongings. “How low are we?” he asked, looking up at Julian.

Julian tapped a few controls on the console to verify the data, but all the readings were the same. “Less than 3 percent,” he answered with a completely reasonable frown...He was _not_ pouting. “Barely enough for _one_ sonic shower, let alone two…” He couldn’t understand it. They had hardly used the replicator so far, and only on small items that weren’t much of a drain on the system, and they hadn’t used the computer _that_ much to warrant these low levels…

Garak returned to whatever he was doing with his bags, seemingly unconcerned. “Then I suggest you hurry and take your shower, Doctor, before all the power is gone.”

Though Julian’s clammy body wanted desperately to follow Garak’s advice and claim the shower, his damned conscience refused to allow him that luxury. Heaving a sigh, he left the console and rested half-seated on the couch’s armrest, observing his friend closely. An ordinary person wouldn’t have seen it, but Julian detected tension in the way Garak moved. There were also deep bags under his eyes.

 “No, Garak, you should shower,” he said, trying to hide his disappointment. “I know you pretend you’re fine, but you must still be in _some_ pain after the surgery. It’s a lot for a body to process. And you look exhausted. A shower is just what you need.”

Garak looked up at Julian with his best “stop prying” smile. “My dear Doctor, if it’s my comfort you’re concerned with, then please do us both a favor and rid yourself of that stench. My nose may look Human, but my olfactory system is still _very_ much Cardassian, I’m afraid.”

The smug smile with which Garak insulted him made Julian wonder why he was even trying to deny himself for Garak’s sake. He was well aware of his own stench, thank you. “Well you hardly smell like a basket of roses either,” he grumbled, but his conscience would not allow him to quit. “Besides, you already let me have the bed so it’s only fair –”

Garak held up his hand to interrupt Julian’s platitudes. “Allow me to propose another solution then,” he began, setting his bag aside. “Since we can’t agree on who is more in need of a shower, why don’t we just take one together?”

Garak’s smile was as innocuous as ever, but Julian suddenly felt uncomfortable under his gaze. “Together?” he nearly squeaked.

Garak blinked, his smile still amiable. “Yes, Doctor.”

Julian tried not to panic as he felt heat rise inexplicably to his cheeks. “You’d be all right with that? I thought Cardassians had a…” What was even the right phrase? An aversion to nudity? A refusal to wear anything that revealed more than one’s head and hands? “… _thing_ about something so private.”

“I’m certainly not shy about this body, it’s hardly mine to begin with,” Garak replied, strangely blasé about the matter. “And there’s currently no need for me to worry about the Federation gaining Cardassian medical secrets.” His blue eyes twinkled with mischief.

Julian couldn’t help but roll his eyes. As if his previous desire to give Garak a medical examination (which was only for Garak’s health and not for his own curiosity about Cardassian physiology, mind you) was anything akin to this…

“It seems the only practical solution at the moment,” Garak continued unconcernedly. As Julian remained silent, uncertain how to proceed, Garak’s eyes locked onto his and his smile grew. “Why, are you uncomfortable with the notion, Doctor? The rumors I’ve heard around Deep Space Nine did not make you out to be a very prudish man.”

Julian let out a nervous laugh because he knew Garak was right. There was no reason to be uncomfortable about a quick shower with a friend when the circumstances made it necessary. He was a doctor on top of that. Nudity shouldn’t phase him.

“No, I’m fine with it…” Julian answered slowly. He still couldn’t believe Garak, who had refused to a share a bed with him, fully clothed, was now suggesting they share a shower, fully _unclothed_. Unless Cardassians showered with their clothes on? No, that would be silly…He couldn’t help but recall that predatory grin Garak had worn early on in their acquaintance, a grin he hadn’t seen in some time, but still…Was this even wise?

His discomfort only grew when he saw Garak staring at him. “Shall we then?” Julian asked, gesturing with nervous energy to the bathroom.

He tried to swallow his nerves as he followed Garak into the bathroom, but as the door closed behind them he could hear his own pulse pounding in his ears. Inhaling shakily, he kept telling himself that there was nothing to be uncomfortable about, that there was nothing intimate about this, and if Garak tried anything he would just fight him off. Not that he was certain he was any match for the Cardassian’s strength, especially after that incident with the wire…

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the sonic shower starting. Garak had already stepped inside, leaving his clothes folded neatly on the counter. Swallowing his pride, Julian quickly stripped off his sweat-crusted scrubs and stepped into the shower.

The shower was almost identical to the ones on Deep Space Nine except the wall tiles had a different pattern, a pattern Julian found utterly fascinating because he refused to look at anything else. The sonic pulses felt magnificent on his skin, relieving him of a week’s worth of filth, but he was far from relaxed. Thankfully the shower was large enough for him to retreat to his own corner without touching the other man. But he could just imagine what Garak must be doing behind him, raking his eyes down Julian’s exposed back and pausing to enjoy the view of his bare arse.

His eyes widened as he felt something stir in the pit of his stomach. Okay, _now_ he was panicking. Why was his body reacting this way? It’s not like he had ever entertained these thoughts before. And how long could he keep Garak from discovering his _problem_?

It had been too long since his last release, Julian decided. Otherwise he wouldn’t be in this horrible situation. All he needed to do was take his mind off what had produced this effect on him, to think about _anything_ else…Maybe if he thought about Quark, or old wrinkly grandmas perhaps, or what about an only slightly old man who was Cardassian but currently had the body of a Human and was naked and standing _right behind him?_

Julian wanted to die.

“You know, Doctor,” Garak began conversationally, making Julian jump. “These sonic vibrations are at just the right frequency to cover up any sounds that may be produced in here.”

Well that didn’t help either. Julian cursed silently as his mind was bombarded with a thousand different ways said sounds could be produced. “I suppose that’s true…” he murmured, swallowing thickly. A shiver crept down his spine as he waited for Garak’s next move, anticipating a hand on his shoulder or trailing down his lower back. Despite what his mind kept insisting, his body seemed to know what it wanted…

“So now would be the perfect opportunity to caution you against trusting Dr. Parmak.”

The hands never came.

Julian blinked. His mind, shaken from its haze, struggled to make sense of Garak’s words. Something about…Parmak? “I…what?”

“Dr. Parmak. I believe it would be unwise to trust him,” Garak repeated simply.

Comprehension returning, Julian was a little taken aback by Garak’s words. “Why do you say that?” he asked, remaining with his back toward Garak. At least his problem was gradually disappearing.

“The stitching on his coat is appalling uneven,” Garak replied, his voice colored with disgust. “If he isn’t capable enough to find a decent tailor, I doubt he would be very capable in other areas.”

Julian didn’t buy that for a second, especially when something else seemed more likely. “You know him,” he accused.

A smile returned to Garak’s voice. “What led you to such an interesting conclusion, Doctor?” he asked, sounding slightly impressed.

Julian grinned at the shower tiles. “When we first met him, you seemed surprised to see him. Oh, you hid it quickly enough, but not before I saw it,” he explained, a little too pleased with himself.

“Very good, Doctor! It appears you’re improving already,” Garak observed with what could have been satisfaction or condescension. “I’ll reward you with this answer. Yes. I do know him…or at least I thought I did. He made no mention of any ties to Starfleet the last time we…spoke.”

Was it just Julian’s imagination, or did Garak sound closer? “And when was that?” he asked, running a hand through his hair.

There was a brief pause before Garak answered. “About seven years ago, when I interrogated him on suspicion of sedition.”

Though Garak’s history with the Order had long since been an open secret, it was rare that he willingly spoke about it. “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me,” Julian commented, hoping to encourage elaboration.

“Oh, he resisted valiantly at first, but in the end he broke,” Garak said, a dark satisfaction seeping into in his voice. “They always do, you know. But I have to give him some credit for lasting four hours after all I did to him…Things that would offend your delicate Federation sensibilities, no doubt. Oh, there were the basics techniques of course, which he all withstood…sleep deprivation, bright lights, a freezing cell, being stripped naked and tied in a most uncomfortable position…But when the tetracyanate started dripping on him, he told me everything he knew.”

Before he knew what he was doing, Julian whirled around. “Tetracyanate?” he asked, eyes wide in disbelief. “But that’s a highly corrosive substance. A small amount could burn the scales off a –”

“You seem surprised,” Garak interrupted, an edge to his smile. His ridgeless face was still capable of appearing intimidating. “There’s a reason I’ve told you many times not to trust me…”

The sonic shower continued to whir in the background as the two stood silently facing each other. Julian’s gaze remained stubbornly on Garak’s face, trying to think about the torture this man had committed and ignoring the view in his peripheral vision that spoke to Dr. Selvik’s thoroughness, but Garak on the other hand…It was quick, but Julian was nearly certain Garak’s gaze had dipped down for just a moment. The sonic pulses might be loud, but Julian doubted it was enough to drown out his suddenly pounding heartbeat.

When Garak broke the silence, he was no longer smiling. “But the fact remains that Parmak _did_ break, which goes to show that even if he is your ally, he would likely break under interrogation again. Be careful what you tell him...and his nurses.”

Julian had little time to consider Garak’s words when everything went dark. Disoriented, it took him a moment to realize that the shower’s pulses were no longer enveloping him. He could hardly see Garak in the dim lighting, but he heard his breathing well enough. They were standing closer now, he was sure of it…

“Well, it appears the rest of our power has been depleted,” Garak observed casually. “Thank you for sharing your shower with me, Doctor, and for such a lovely conversation.” Excusing himself in the same way he would at the end of their lunches, Garak left Julian naked in the dark, refusing to acknowledge that he may have felt a little disappointed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to all who have been reading so far! You guys are the best!
> 
> Tune in next week for a blood test, some answers, and Garak's first shave.


	5. Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parmak administers a blood test and Julian discovers the truth about Councillor Pelor.

When Cardassia’s little white morning birds began chirping outside, Julian wasn’t sure if he had slept more than a few hours that night. Garak’s words in the shower had given him too much to puzzle out for his mind to rest.

Of course there was the possibility that everything Garak had told him was a lie, but it could just as well be true. With Garak you could never be sure. The clever Cardassian would throw in a truth once in a while just to keep you guessing.

And if he was telling the truth about Parmak…could Julian trust the Cardassian doctor? He already had so many questions about Parmak’s evasiveness. And it just seemed odd that a Cardassian would associate with Starfleet to begin with. Of course there was always the possibility that Parmak wasn’t even Cardassian, that he was just surgically altered to appear so. And if Starfleet trusted Parmak, didn’t that prove his credibility?

Then there was the question of Garak’s secrecy. If he only told Julian about Parmak because they were protected by the sonic shower’s hum, how safe was their apartment? Were they being watched? Garak had swept the apartment for surveillance devices every evening after they returned home and had yet to find any more. Did he know something that Julian didn’t? It didn’t make any sense.

And then of course, his mind began to wander to other territories that made no sense. Feeling warmth rise to his cheeks, Julian let out a groan and turned over on his side, burying his face into Kukalaka **.** Despite the heat he had decided to wear pajamas last night, feeling a little too exposed after his shower with Garak.

He thought he had gotten this out of his system last night after he hastily rubbed one out – not to thoughts of Garak, mind you. He still had plenty of his favorite Jadzia fantasies to conjure up.

A sound from outside the bedroom saved him from his thoughts. It was Garak’s voice, Julian recognized, albeit muffled by surprisingly solid walls. He was unfamiliar with the Kardasi Garak spoke, but he knew the tone of an expletive when he heard one.

A little concerned, he only took the time to don some slippers before investigating. The light in the living room was on so at least they had received their new energy ration. Garak wasn’t on his couch, but another Kardasi curse led him to the bathroom where he found Garak standing in front of the mirror. The man’s jaw was lathered in white soap, a small brown trail contrasting starkly against it. He looked far from pleased.

“Are you all right?” Julian asked, trying to repress a smirk.

Garak didn’t turn to face him, preferring to meet his eyes in the mirror. “Oh, good morning, Dr. Bashir,” he greeted, his smile sarcastic. “Yes, I’m splendid. Just enjoying another aspect of being Human.”

Julian’s grin quickly won out, spreading over his face as he took in the sight of his friend. Garak, former Obsidian Order agent and certainly no stranger to knives, was confounded by a good old fashion straight razor. “Give it here,” he said, reaching for the razor.

“Doctor!” Garak objected. He jerked the razor away from Julian’s hand, nicking himself in the process.

While Garak was occupied by the pain, uttering another Kardasi curse, Julian snatched the razor. “This is mine anyway, you thief,” he chided playfully. He had opted to bring this one instead of his sonic razor, knowing that resources would be scarce. He needed to save the power cells he brought for his medkit.

One look in the mirror told Julian how sleep-tousled he looked, his hair disheveled and his pajamas wrinkled, but at the moment he was too amused to care.

Garak glared at him openly, something he only did when he was particularly irked. “Well it’s not as if I needed to own anything like this before,” he offered in defense.

Julian studied the brown beads of blood that dripped down Garak’s jaw, staining the soap. He was actually amazed it had taken this long for stubble to grow. Perhaps Garak had still been healing from the operation. “I’m surprised you’re having so much trouble with this,” he commented with a smirk. “I thought blades were used quite frequently in the tailoring business.”

 “Using them on oneself is very different – Really, Doctor, I must protest! This is not necessary!”

Julian ignored his protests, holding Garak’s chin in place as he started running the razor down his friend’s jawline. “Relax or you’ll just cut yourself more,” he warned lightly. Garak was usually so calm and collected, his mask seamless, that Julian sort of liked to see him irritated. It felt like he was finally getting to see the real Garak, or at least a glimpse of him. “This is a momentous occasion, Garak! Your first shave,” he said, his enthusiasm matching Garak’s vexation in intensity. “Usually this happens much earlier in a man’s life, but better late than never I suppose.”

Garak glared into the mirror, his eyes as dark as they could be without ridges to shadow them. “Sometimes I wonder why I let you talk me into _this_ ,” he grumbled, gesturing vaguely to himself.

Julian’s eyes twinkled in challenge. “I remember _this_ being your idea,” he retorted as he continued to work. “If you hate shaving so much, you could always just grow a beard.”

Garak’s face wrinkled in disgust, forcing Julian to put a hand on his other cheek to steady him. “And walk around with a kurvarian needle beast stuck to my face? I would rather drink root beer,” he huffed. There was a spark in his eyes that made Julian think he was not as peeved as he sounded.

“I’ll remember that next time we’re at Quark’s,” Julian laughed.

They fell silent for a moment as Julian concentrated on Garak’s face, gliding the razor over his jawline with practiced agility. He was so focused that he didn’t notice how his tongue had protruded slightly from the corner of his mouth. When he moved to the hair above Garak’s upper lip, he tried not to let the proximity of their faces faze him. His heartbeat sped up anyway. 

When Julian had moved the razor a safe difference away from his friend’s mouth, Garak broke the silence. “Are there any more lovely surprises I should expect from this Human skin?” he asked with a sigh that Julian felt on his face.

Julian considered the question for a moment, glad for something to keep his mind distracted. There was the hair that covered more personal parts of the body, but he was pretty sure Garak had already discovered that. “Well…we do tend to sweat a lot…But with your ectothermic blood, I can’t imagine you get overheated as often.”

Garak remained perfectly still as Julian invaded his personal space to get at the remaining stubble. “Ah yes, that other wonderful Human trait,” he drawled. “My blood saves me from the worst of it, but I do notice it on occasion.”

After removing a few last hairs, Julian stepped back and admired his work. “There. Smooth as silk.” He reached for a towel and began wiping the remnants of soap and blood off Garak’s face.

Garak started to squirm. “Thank you. Now if you don’t mind, Doctor…” He jerked his head away from Julian’s ministrations, evidently eager to put some distance between them.

“Wait!” Julian protested, managing to wipe off the last of the soap. “I’m not finished with you yet. I have to take care of this.” He dabbed an end of the towel on the cuts on Garak's jawline. Blood was still budding out of the deeper cut. “We don’t want people to know this is the first time a middle-aged Human male has shaved.”

“You have a point,” Garak agreed reluctantly. He was cooperative enough to remain in place while Julian fetched the dermal regenerator from his medkit.

Julian heard no more complaints as he hovered the regenerator over Garak’s wounds. He couldn’t help but be reminded of the dog he grew up with. His German Shepherd had acted much like Garak when it was time to trim his toenails. Garak just hated being fussed over, always protecting secrets. It was like he was afraid that if you got too close, you might see through the mask.

In the silence he found his mind wandering to the questions that had kept him up last night.

“Garak…is it still safe to talk openly here?” he asked at length.

Garak met his eyes with a scrutinizing look. “If you have any doubts, why are you speaking openly now?” There was a touch of censure in his voice.

Julian furrowed his brow at the question. “Because you are,” he pointed out. Finished healing Garak’s cuts, he turned off the regenerator and took a step back.

Garak’s lips curved into a grin, his previous irritation gone. “You shouldn’t always rely on my judgment, dear Doctor. Use that famed intellect of yours,” he reproached lightly. “But yes, we are quite safe here, or as safe as we can be on Cardassia. I scanned the entire apartment last night and found no more signs of surveillance.”

That was a relief to hear, but Julian wasn’t satisfied yet. “Then what was the shower about?” he pressed.

Garak was the picture of innocent confusion, his head tilted and his eyes blinking. “The shower? We both needed one and we were low on power. It was a matter of conservation.”

Julian rolled his eyes at Garak’s obvious deflection but didn’t push it. If you tried to get Garak to explain his actions, you would probably end up going insane before he would ever comply. Instead Julian returned to his bedroom to make himself presentable.

At breakfast Julian made sure to mention his findings on Councillor Pelor. Garak seemed quite interested as he gnawed on a ration bar, promising to do his own research on the man. He claimed never to have met Pelor, but had heard about him in passing from someone he couldn’t remember. 

 

* * *

 

Julian found his morning rather slow at the hospital, allowing him a cup of tea while he skimmed some reports in the breakroom. He hadn’t had any tea with his breakfast to conserve their power, so this cup was much needed. He was determined to take his own showers from now on.

The doors slid open and Julian raised his gaze to be greeted by Parmak.

“Ah, good morning, Dr. El Fadil.”

“Good morning,” Julian returned, his Kardasi nearly flawless on that phrase.

Parmak balanced his tall stack of padds precariously in one arm as he removed his sanitary mask. “I hope you don’t mind some company. I usually take my _gelat_ in my office, but Telma has started coming by every morning to gossip and I can’t seem to get any work done.”

“Not at all,” Julian assured with a smile, setting down his padd.

As Parmak crossed the room to the replicator, Julian surreptitiously studied the man’s appearance, recalling what Garak had told him. He couldn’t find any signs of disfiguration that a corrosive substance like tetracyanate would leave.

Julian quickly averted his eyes when Parmak turned around, lest he be caught staring. He smelled a whiff of something unfamiliar steaming from Parmak’s mug, bitter but not unpleasant. At least it wasn’t fish juice.

“Where is Nurse Robinson this morning?” Parmak asked conversationally as he took a seat across from Julian. “I hardly see the two of you apart.”

Julian set down his mug after a sip. "Already hard at work with today’s vaccines,” he replied.

Parmak nodded, then took an indulgent sip of his fragrant drink. After he was finished, he dabbed at his lips – as Garak often did – before speaking. “It must be nice for you to work so closely with your mate. And to share a passion for medicine –”

“Wait, I don’t think I understood you correctly,” Julian stopped him. He must be confusing his Kardasi again because Parmak couldn’t have just said what he thought he heard. “What do you mean by…mate?” He pronounced Parmak’s word carefully.

“A mate…” Parmak paused contemplatively as he sought for a synonym. “A lover, or close companion, a beloved one…”

Julian’s eyes widened. He hadn’t heard wrong. “Oh, no, no, Andy and I aren’t…” he sputtered, cheeks warming rapidly. “We’re just friends!”

Julian’s obvious embarrassment was not lost on Parmak. “Oh, I apologize!” the doctor said sheepishly. “I just assumed since you call each other by lovenames…”

“Lovenames?” This was a word Julian hadn’t heard before, but the rough Standard translation of its parts made him uncomfortable.

“Yes, how his given name is Andrew but you call him Andy, and he calls you Sid.”

Comprehension flashed upon Julian’s features. “Oh god...” he breathed. His face flushed a darker shade of crimson as he realized his stupid mistake. He offered a hasty explanation. “On Earth they’re called nicknames and we give them to friends, relatives, pets, pretty much anyone…”

Parmak seemed almost as embarrassed as Julian as he held his mug stiffly. “Oh, I see. Do forgive me,” he apologized again. “On Cardassia the shortening of someone’s given name denotes deep affection. So I only assumed…But I’m glad we cleared that up. These misunderstandings are bound to happen.” He smiled amiably at Julian to make peace.

“No harm done,” Julian assured him. He had already had a few miscommunications due to cultural differences, but none quite as personal as this. He smiled as he brushed off the embarrassment, but he was going to have a little talk with Garak later…

“Ah yes,” Parmak suddenly said as if he had just recalled something. “You might be interested to know that Councillor Pelor has an exam scheduled for this afternoon.”

Perking up, Julian found himself instinctively leaning in and lowering his voice. “You were able to speak to Rejal then?”

Parmak nodded. “Yes. She shared my concern for the Council’s health and must have had a word with Pelor.”

“That’s good to hear,” Julian expressed, his mind racing with the plans of yesterday. He waited for Parmak to say something else, perhaps extend an invitation to be present at the exam, but the doctor had returned to sipping his beverage. It looked like Julian would have to take the initiative. “Would it be all right if I sat in on the exam? I think it’d be beneficial for my training…”

When Parmak looked up from his mug with a blank expression, Julian became aware of the newscast murmuring in the background and clarified.

“You see, I’ve only been dealing with sick Cardassians and I’d like more experience with healthy ones for comparison’s sake. There’s only so much that diagrams and databases can tell you,” Julian explained nonchalantly, glancing at the viewscreen. There seemed to be one in almost every room, and unlike in the streets of Torr, they were all on.

Parmak looked pensive as he drained the last of his mug. “I don’t know if that’ll be possible,” he said at length. “Pelor will probably be quite nervous as it is, and I don’t think the presence of a Human would help matters.”

Julian tried not to let his face fall too visibly. Of course he didn’t _need_ to be there when Parmak performed the blood screening, but it would have been nice to see the results of his theory himself. And if things were to get ugly…

Parmak pondered for a few more moments before speaking. “But…I may have a workaround.” He looked as if he was going to elaborate when his wrist comm lit up. “I must be getting back now, but I’ll come find you when Pelor arrives.” Before Julian could get any words out, Parmak was gone.

 

* * *

 

A few hours later, Julian was in the lab running tests on the Pentathian farmer’s tissue sample when Parmak’s voice came over his wrist comm. He was instructed to report to room 402, and in five minutes he found himself in a cramped, dimly-lit space with no furniture to speak of, its only ornamentation an oval-shaped window. Peering through the window, Julian was startled to see Nurse Telma and an unfamiliar man sitting in an exam room.

“He can’t see you,” Parmak informed as he came in behind Julian. “This is one of our little viewing galleries.”

Julian examined the window curiously, lips curling under his sanitary mask. He knew this design well. “Let me guess. The other side of this window looks like a mirror.”

“Ah, so you’re familiar with this technology,” Parmak said, pleasantly surprised.

“It was used on Earth a few centuries ago,” Julian explained.

Parmak’s eyes shimmered with a grin. “It’s a bit old fashioned, but still quite effective. You can observe the patient here without causing him any distress.” He paused for a moment, probably to see if Julian had any questions. But for once, Julian was in no rush to ask anything, too busy studying Pelor.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a patient waiting,” Parmak said and ducked out.

As Julian watched Parmak enter the exam room and introduce himself gregariously to Pelor, he felt a little like a twentieth century police officer overseeing an interrogation. That didn’t really sit well with him, but right now it was his only option if he wanted to investigate Pelor. He really shouldn’t have been surprised to find such a thing here. Privacy was not a Cardassian virtue. Only those who were clever or powerful enough could hope to obtain it, but they never allowed it of others. And – if Garak was any indication – even those people were never entirely safe, pursued by paranoia if nothing greater.

Observing Pelor, it was plain to see that the man was nervous. If he was a Changeling, he would have a lot to be nervous about. But would a Founder play his hand so openly? Julian was about to find out. Telma had just picked up a hypo and was approaching the seated patient.

Julian found himself holding his breath as the hypo drew nearer to Pelor’s arm. At any second the man might jerk away and attack. Julian’s hand went to his empty hip, wishing he had thought to bring his phaser today.

But a phaser would not be necessary, it turned out. Pelor, while a little pale, surrendered a sample of his blood without a fuss. After Julian had watched the sample for a few moments, it soon became clear that it would not transform into a Changeling’s liquid state. It was normal blood.

 

* * *

 

Parmak had given Pelor’s blood sample personally to Julian, though at this point Julian had mostly lost interest in it. Still he ran the standard tests, his mind wandering as he waited in the lab for the computer’s findings.

It was silly to wish that Pelor was a Changeling, but the councillor had been Julian’s only real lead. Now he was back at square one with no more direction than he had a week ago when he stepped out of the transporter station in a daze. Was he supposed to go through every possible suspect Constable-Odo-style, crossing them off his list until he finally found the Changeling? Somehow he had expected Starfleet Intelligence to give him a more specific assignment than this.

Rubbing his sore temples, he decided that he would need to have a talk with Parmak.

His thoughts were interrupted when Garak walked through the door, removing his mask with an amiable smile. As much as Julian wanted to vent his frustration and ask Garak for a solution, it wasn’t safe to talk openly in the hospital. Besides, there was something else he wanted to discuss at the moment…

“I had an interesting conversation with Parmak this morning,” Julian began casually, leaning against a counter.

Garak quirked an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Julian picked up the nearest padd and pretended to scan it disinterestedly. “He told me about a particular Cardassian custom…lovenames, I think he called it,” he continued nonchalantly. “The shortening of someone’s name to denote _deep_ affection.”

“Ah.”

Frowning, Julian met Garak’s gaze pointedly. “You could have told me that nicknames are considered a bit more intimate here,” he complained, careful not to say anything too specific in case they had eavesdroppers. “Andrew Robinson’s” Cardassian background made it a little easier.

Garak seemed unfazed by Julian’s irritation. “My dear Doctor, am I expected to teach you everything about Cardassian culture?” he asked, voice rising and falling with dramatization. “They say experience is the greatest teacher of all, and I could hardly rob my dear friend of one of life’s great lessons.”

Julian rolled his eyes as Garak waxed philosophical. “Parmak thought we were _mates_.”

Garak didn’t seem particularly perturbed by this, tilting his head as if he found it amusing. “What a peculiar notion. I’m at least twenty years older than you,” he mused.

Julian didn’t know what amused him more, the fact that Garak had just admitted his age, or the impish curl of his lips. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he accused.

Garak’s expression turned somewhat weary. “Please, Doctor, I have little aptitude for your pronoun games. Enjoying _what_ exactly?”

“My culture shock.”

Garak simply snorted in response as he began wandering around the room. When he came to the console where Julian was running tests, he stopped. “Is this Councillor Pelor’s blood sample?”

“It is,” Julian answered. The look they exchanged acknowledged what could not be said aloud.

Garak’s lips stretched into his trademark smile, something Julian had long recognized as a means of concealment. “Well, it’s a relief to hear that everyone on the Council is in good health.”

The computer gave a beep, signaling the completion of its tests. Julian automatically went to the console and began skimming through the data, finding everything normal at first glance. Then something caught his eye, making him stop to reread a few words and zoom in on a diagram.

He opened his mouth to call Garak over, nearly slipping up. “G – Andy, come look at this…” Garak was quickly at his side, peering down at the console. “The composition of these antibodies…Is this the Ka’vium virus?” He was almost certain it was, but he was still relatively new to Cardassian medicine. It was fortunate he knew a tailor who had some convenient medical knowledge.

“Oh dear,” Garak said, his tone confirming it. “Well that would explain why he was so reluctant to get a blood test.”

“Pelor has a sexually transmitted disease.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day early this week! 
> 
> Tune in next week for some revelations, confrontations, and Garak cooking dinner.


	6. Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian learns the truth about his contact.

As Julian downed the last of his sixth cup of tea, he wished the hospital replicators were programmed with some foreign beverages like _raktajino_ or Terran coffee. He could really go for something stronger right now.

He had decided to work late that evening, catching up on the plague research he had missed during the afternoon. The hour wasn’t too late yet, but after a long day of continuous work, he found his lids drooping as he tried to focus on his patients’ test results. They were all disappointing; none of his treatments had caused any marked improvements.

But most importantly, he wanted to catch Dr. Parmak before he left the hospital. He had been in surgery ever since Pelor’s exam, treating a wounded soldier who had been sent back to Prime after his amputated leg refused to heal properly. It was a pretty messy business. Julian was still waiting for a chance to discuss Pelor’s lab results, and hopefully get some idea of where to focus his attention next.

Garak had already gone home after his shift. He had offered to stay and assist Julian, but they both knew his time was better spent at their apartment where he could continue his attempts at accessing classified information.

At that moment Julian’s console beeped, startling him from a light doze. It was a notification alerting him that Parmak had left the operating room on level 5. Pulling up the hospital’s schematics, Julian saw that the little dot was heading towards Parmak’s office. Finally.

He didn’t bother putting on a sanitary mask for the trip between their offices since it was just down the hall and there weren’t as many patients at this hour. Parmak’s “enter” sounded a little weary when Julian tapped the door panel, but he wore a polite smile when his gaze met Julian’s.

Julian stopped in front of the desk Parmak was seated behind. “Doctor, I’m sorry for bothering you so late, but I thought you might want to see this,” Julian said apologetically. He handed Parmak a data padd. “Pelor’s lab results.”

Parmak skimmed the padd briefly before raising an eye ridge. “Hmm. That looks like Ka’ V,” he mused solemnly.

Julian nodded with equal soberness. “All signs point to it. And from how it looks here, it’s not in the earliest stage either. If Pelor doesn’t seek treatment, I’m afraid it might do irreparable damage to his immune system.”

Parmak nodded and continued to study the data, seemingly lost in thought until he remembered Julian’s presence. “Please, sit,” the Cardassian doctor invited, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk. Once Julian was seated, he set down the padd and continued. “Of course I’ll recommend treatment, but I’m not sure if Pelor will cooperate. I’m afraid this doesn’t bode very well for him. Rejal will want to see these results, and this looks clearly like sexual infidelity. I’ll double-check, but I’m certain I would remember if Pelor’s wife had been diagnosed with Ka’ V.”

Julian sat silently for a moment, processing this new information and its possible implications. “Will this affect his political career?” he asked at length.

Parmak nodded solemnly. “Most certainly,” he responded. “This might seem strange to you, but we on Cardassia don’t look fondly upon public officials who betray their family.”

Julian frowned. “I see. That’s unfortunate for him,” he said grimly. While he didn’t think he did anything wrong as a doctor because his primary concern was his patients’ health, he couldn’t help but feel responsible for Pelor’s inevitable exposure. He believed a man’s medical record should be between himself and his doctor, but that was obviously not a Cardassian belief. As far as he was concerned, the Council had no business knowing. But since it was his prying that got the chief executor involved in this, there was no way to keep it concealed. He didn’t know much about Pelor, but he still felt guilty for contributing to his political undoing. Surely that crossed the lines of reconnaissance. That hadn’t been his intention…

“I agree,” Parmak said, sliding the padd back to Julian. He let silence settle between them as he gazed contemplatively at nothing in particular. “But in a way…I’m rather relieved by this result. It explains why he was so reluctant to come here, and it disproves what I had feared…”

Julian leaned forward in his chair.

“That the Council had been infiltrated by a shapeshifter.” Parmak’s voice had grown softer. “I know it seems rather paranoid, but Rejal’s actions of late have made me suspicious. And one hears many rumors floating around Prime these days.”

Julian’s eyes widened at what he had just heard. He glanced cautiously at the viewscreen that was, as always, babbling in the background. “Is it safe to say such things here?” he whispered, leaning even closer.

Parmak followed Julian’s gaze with his head before turning back and smiling at him. “Oh, yes,” he assured. “As long as you don’t speak too loud, you don’t need to worry. I’ve turned off all the surveillance devices in here. It’s the only safe place in the hospital.”

Julian relaxed a little, sitting back in his chair. Well this was a major relief. More than a week in, and his contact had finally seen fit to mention Julian’s true purpose for being here. Maybe he would actually get some answers! He certainly could use a little guidance right now. “What a relief. It’s been a little exhausting trying to communicate in such roundabout ways. I also thought Pelor might be Dukat’s Changeling, but now that –”

“Dukat?” Parmak’s interrupted, eye ridges shooting upward. “I didn’t know he was involved in this. Where did you hear that?”

Julian’s mouth fell slightly open as he examined Parmak’s face, a face that was etched in clear confusion. He urgently searched that visage for any sign of deception or artifice, but the bewilderment looked so genuine that he doubted it could be forged. Even Garak’s lies hardly appeared _that_ convincing. So that could only mean…

Julian swallowed thickly, running his previous conversations with Parmak through his head like a computer scanning data. His augmented brain wasn’t as fast as computer, but it sometimes came close. When he landed on a little piece of information that his perfect recall had captured, he followed it to its inevitable conclusion. But Parmak was still staring at him, so he had to say something.

“Telma,” he replied, schooling his face into neutrality.

Parmak’s face relaxed as he nodded in understanding. “Ah. I would take what Telma says with a grain of salt, Dr. El Fadil,” he advised, his tone a kind warning. “She’s somewhat of a disillusioned dissident. She’s not very happy with the direction the Council has taken after all that they promised. And frankly, I can’t blame her.” He paused, running a finger over his left eye ridge as if it was aching. “But I wouldn’t take her rumors too seriously. After all, she was wrong about there being a shapeshifter on the Council.”

 

* * *

 

Julian found Nurse Telma where the computer said she would be, in laboratory D. She was thankfully alone. He wasted no time with pleasantries.

“It’s you, isn’t it?”

The look of casual friendliness dropped from Telma’s face in an instant. She removed her sanitary mask quickly, a sly grin stretching across her features as her eyes glinted. She didn’t reply immediately, carrying a tray of surgical instruments to the sonic sterilizer. Julian followed her, in no mood to be ignored. Only after she had placed all the items inside and turned on the device did she speak, turning around to face him, her grin widening.

“Very good, Julian.”

Julian inhaled sharply, shock overtaking his features. It had already been a while since he heard that name, but how utterly careless to say it when they were here, in the hospital, where Cardassian Intelligence could be listening in at any time! He couldn’t even think of a denial to stammer out.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Telma said, her serenity in stark contrast with Julian’s panic. “The frequency of the sonic sterilizer’s vibrations will interfere with the surveillance devices in this room, making us inaudible to anyone listening.”

Julian’s heartrate resumed a more normal tempo, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “So I’ve heard,” he muttered, glancing at the sterilizer. He ran a hand up his sweat-slicked forehead and through his hair, trying to comprehend these recent revelations. “But I don’t understand why you didn’t just tell me…”

Telma’s eyes sparkled, her smile reminding Julian of Garak. “We’ve heard of your extraordinary gifts…I wanted to see for myself. Consider this the first phase of your training,” she offered simply. Then her expression changed to one of suspicion, an eye ridge raising. “Unless of course your _friend_ told you.”

Maybe he was just being paranoid, but Julian didn’t like the sound of “extraordinary gifts.” Regardless, he couldn’t focus on that right now. “He didn’t tell me anything,” he answered. “Parmak just didn’t seem to know what I was talking about. Either he’s the quadrant’s best liar, and I’ve known some pretty good liars, or he really doesn’t know what’s going on.”

Telma held Julian’s gaze steadily, her lips curling upward. “Oh, Parmak knows a thing or two. Just only what I want him to know.”

Julian didn’t like the devious aspect of her smile. “Like me then,” he said, lips drawn in a tight line.

Telma seemed to consider his words, tilting her head. “I suppose that’s true,” she conceded. Her smile then faded as she fixed him with a weighted gaze. “But you must realize that this is a hazardous occupation, Julian. If you knew everything, you’d be a walking liability.”

Julian felt his frustration quickly mounting. Now that he had been given one answer, it was leading to dozens more. “Well you could at least tell me _something,”_ he argued, gesturing emphatically. “Obviously Pelor isn’t the Changeling Dukat’s been communicating with. So now what? I have no intelligence training. If you want to use me as an operative, you can’t just push me in blind and hope I stumble onto something useful!”

“Lower your voice!” Telma hissed. Her composure gave way to wide eyes and a furrowed brow. “The sonic vibrations don’t make the walls soundproof!”

Julian immediately clamped his mouth shut, feeling like a right and proper idiot for his loudness. Still he held Telma’s gaze.

Telma eyed him sternly for another moment before her eyes softened. “As frustrated as you may be, I can’t tell you everything I know, just as I don’t know everything that Starfleet Intelligence knows,” she explained, her voice quieter. She took a moment to contemplate before continuing. “But for now, just keep an eye on Dukat. Somehow he’s communicating with the Dominion – that much we’re certain of. We just need to find the evidence.”

Grateful to have received at least some direction, albeit broad, Julian began to simmer down. “All right. Dukat. I’ll focus on him,” he agreed.

A small smile had returned to Telma’s lips as she raised her eye ridges pointedly. “I’m certain your friend has means to help you with that task,” she remarked.

Before Julian could respond, the sonic sanitizer let out a beep, and suddenly the room grew markedly quieter.

Telma turned back to Julian with a freshly-sanitized tray of instruments. “It was so lovely to speak with you again, Dr. El Fadil,” she expressed with a smile. “We should chat more often. Don’t be a stranger.”

 

* * *

 

A savory aroma greeted Julian’s senses as he walked through the door of their apartment and hung his dust mask up on a hook. His stomach growled in immediate response, reminding him that it had been many hours since he his last meal.

Garak looked up from the steaming pot that he was stirring. He had set up a little makeshift kitchen on a small table, just a cooking plate and a few utensils. His brow was slickened with sweat but his eyes were alive with delight.

“Ah, Doctor, you’re finally home. How was work?”

Julian almost wanted to stop and laugh at how utterly domestic that sounded, especially with Garak standing there in an apron and a spoon in hand, but he had other more pressing matters on his mind.

“Parmak isn’t our contact,” Julian informed. “It’s Telma.”

Garak continued to stir the steaming substance leisurely, appearing only mildly interested. “Is that so?” he asked, glancing up briefly.

Julian tensed, eyes narrowing. As he studied his friend’s reaction in disbelief, his features drew into a deep scowl. “You knew,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

Garak looked up at him without the usual infuriating smile, his mask unreadable. “Yes, Doctor, I did,” he answered simply, unaffected by Julian’s glower.

Julian’s frown morphed into a full-on gape as he stared at Garak in utter confusion, trying futilely to make sense of the man. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.

Garak continued stirring, his countenance still perfectly composed. “You needed to figure it out yourself,” he replied.

Julian’s previous frustration was returning in torrents. It now made sense why Garak had told him not to trust Parmak, but he didn’t understand why Garak didn’t just tell him the truth. “I thought you were on my side!” he exclaimed, volume growing in his irritation.

Garak stopped stirring at that moment, setting his spoon down as he gazed pointedly at Julian. “You should never assume your allies are on your side.” There was a dark warning in his tone.

Julian had had it with Garak’s cryptic responses. With how often the man told him not to trust him, he didn’t know why he ever had. “Damn you, Garak!” he shouted. “Damn all you bloody Cardassians and your evasiveness!” His eyes widened after the words left his mouth, realizing how much like Miles he sounded.

Garak stepped back from his makeshift kitchen and approached Julian, eyes glinting like marbles. “Well what did you expect going into this, Doctor?” he asked, his voice matching Julian’s in intensity. His composure was slipping.

“I don’t know! A little more transparency?”

Garak let out a sardonic laugh, startling Julian slightly. “How incredibly naïve!” he remarked, condescension coloring his tone. “That’s precisely why I thought you needed to make this discovery on your own. Since Starfleet won’t provide any formal training, I’ve taken it upon myself to teach you these lessons. You’ll have to get used to not knowing everything. Operatives are supposed to follow orders without question. If this were the Order, you’d already be ejected.”

Julian held Garak’s gaze with steely obstinacy. They were nearly chest-to-chest now. “But this is Starfleet, not the Obsidian Order!” he countered. “And that’s easy enough when your orders are actually given to you!”

Garak raised an eyebrow. “Excuse my ignorance, but I had assumed Starfleet also required obedience,” he responded, voice dripping with sarcasm. “And do you not already have your orders? To find evidence of Dominion involvement on Cardassia?”

Julian retreated from Garak a few steps, a little tired of his condescending lectures. “Yes, but everyone’s neglected to tell me _how_ ,” he argued, beginning to pace.

Garak remained where he stood, blue eyes following Julian around the room. “That part is often not specified, Doctor. Intelligence agencies rely on the resourcefulness of their operatives to complete the assignment,” he explained. His tone had lost its edge, taking on a more measured, instructive quality. “Take it as a compliment that Starfleet puts enough faith in you to find your own way.”

Julian dropped down on the couch, releasing a heavy sigh. “But I’m _not_ a trained operative, I’m just a doctor,” he pointed out. His voice was now softer as the fire drained from him.

Garak took a seat next Julian’s sprawled figure, taking care not the rumple his stacked up blankets at the end of the couch. “And for some reason they still asked for you,” he said, voice lowering to match Julian’s volume. “I don’t pretend to understand _that_ bit of reasoning. But don’t forget you volunteered for this. You’ll have to decide if you want to see this through or try to find a way out. I’m doing all I can to assist you.”

“I know, and I appreciate that, but…” Julian pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stem the headache that all this deliberation had caused. Garak was right, of course, but Julian didn’t feel ready to quit just yet. He _had_ been excited about this once upon a time. And he doubted he would just be allowed to walk out now that he knew a few things. “I don’t know,” he said at length, exhaling. “This just doesn’t sit right with me.”

They lapsed into silence for a few moments, Julian still attempting to process all he had learned that day. At length Garak spoke.

“Come, Doctor. Dinner is getting cold.” He stood up, his patented “friendly tailor” smile returning. “It will probably be a while before we can have another home cooked meal, so I suggest we savor it.”

Julian’s stomach rumbled at the mention of food, giving him no choice but to comply. He followed Garak to their little table in the corner of the room, finding a set of plates and utensils spread out for them. He wondered how much power and credits replicating these items, along with the cooking plate, had cost them, but decided not to ask. He had had enough arguments for one night.

There was still steam rising from the pot as Garak spooned out a little broth to taste. “I’m afraid it’s not as flavorful as authentic _tojal_ stew,” he lamented. “But by the time I got to the market there wasn’t much to choose from. I had to make do with what I could find.”

“Well it smells delicious,” Julian commented, eagerly spooning a helping on his plate.

Despite Garak’s apologies, Julian found the stew quite delicious after subsisting on mostly ration bars for a week. It was perhaps a little too warm for his liking, but wasn’t everything on Cardassia? There was only one vegetable he didn’t really care for, but he pushed it aside easily enough to enjoy the rest of the meal.

After they had focused on eating for a while, Garak looked up at Julian with a conspiratorial smile. “You’ll be pleased to hear I’ve finally made some progress today,” he announced, leaning forward like he often did when dropping hints over their Replimat table. “We now have access to Dukat’s personal console in Central Command HQ.”

Julian lowered the spoon that was near his mouth, very intrigued. “Were you able to find any evidence that he’s been communicating with the Dominion?” He doubted Garak would have mentioned it so casually if he had, but it was still worth a shot.

“Unfortunately no, but I would’ve been surprised if I had,” Garak replied, shaking his head. “Dukat hasn’t survived this long by being careless. No doubt the Council has been keeping quite a close eye on Central Command. Dukat would be a fool to try such a thing from there.” He paused to chew a piece of vegetable contemplatively. “No, if Dukat has made any secret communications, they were probably from his home computer.”

Julian washed his stew down with some water before asking, “Any chance you could gain access to that?”

Garak’s eyes glistened with amusement. “My dear doctor, I’m hardly a miracle worker,” he returned, waving his spoon like a wand. Returning to eating, he seemed to consider it for a few moments before adding, “I will try, but I cannot promise much. If that’s where Dukat is hiding his secrets, it’s likely even I will be unable to get in.”

It was disappointing, but it made sense. Julian couldn’t expect this to be that easy. But the access that Garak had already obtained was sure to be a big help. “At least we’ll be able to monitor Dukat from now on,” he observed. “The only thing Telma _did_ tell me was that we should focus our attention on him.”

Garak nodded in agreement as he chewed his food leisurely. He did a better job at taking the time to savor his food, Julian realized. Julian knew he was prone to scarfing down his own food, especially when he was hungry. He deliberately starting chewing more slowly.

“I did find one interesting piece of information,” Garak mentioned after a sip of water. “Dukat has been very recently promoted to legate.”

“Do you know why?” Julian asked. He didn’t remember that being mentioned on Dukat’s medical record.

Garak’s pleasant smile fell a little flat. “Oh, no doubt it was to honor him for the bravery he showed during the Battle of Deep Space Nine, singlehanded defending the Detapa Council against the hordes of advancing Klingons,” he explained, voice tinged with a hint of bitterness.

Julian frowned. “But a certain tailor gets no recognition.”

Garak sighed, tapping his fingers on the table. “I suppose it’s for the best,” he mused, a conceding smile stretching across his face. “If they had decided to show gratitude, I would hardly be here with you now, would I?”

Julian considered how to respond to that, suspecting that there were many things Garak would rather be doing than helping Julian with this strange assignment. Before he could reply, he found Garak taking an interest in his plate.

“Is there something wrong with your _rhot_ roots, Doctor?” Garak asked, eyeing Julian’s stew with concern. “You’ve barely touched them. Are they undercooked, perhaps?”

Julian smiled a little sheepishly as he noted the large pile of _rhot_ roots he had been collecting. “Oh, no, they’re fine. I just don’t have much of a taste for them,” he explained, taking care not to insult the chef. “They remind me a little too much of Terran beets.”

“I would have thought you’d like something that reminds you of home,” Garak observed.

Julian tried to conceal the disgust that usually spread across his face when he thought about that dirt-tasting vegetable. “Normally I would, but I’m not very fond of beets…” He felt a little silly complaining about the root vegetable when they were lucky to be having vegetables at all. And he felt a little guilty to be enjoying this meal after the way he had yelled at Garak, justified or not. “Oh, but the rest is delicious!” he assured enthusiastically. “Thank you for making this. Really, Garak, I didn’t know you were such a good cook.”

“It’s one of the few hobbies I’ve managed to pick up,” Garak dismissed with a wave of his spoon.

Julian smiled warmly around a mouthful of stew. “You continue to surprise me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one weekend! How did that ever happen?
> 
> Tune in next week for politics, gelat, and a familiar face.


	7. Gelat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian and Garak go to a geleta house and see a familiar face.

This was starting to become a habit, Julian realized as he groaned into his pillow. He could hardly remember a night that he didn’t spend tossing and turning, bare skin against drenched sheets as he tried to fall asleep. It didn’t help that yesterday’s revelation kept his mind whirring like a starship engine. Needless to say, Julian didn’t wake up in the best of the moods the next morning.

As he pulled on his least sweaty set of scrubs, he wished that the Cardassian-designed uniform was a little more breathable. Garak had already lamented the scrubs’ design, detailing every aspect that would be different if he had been the one to create Central Hospital’s uniforms. For once Julian wholeheartedly agreed.

Frowning in the mirror at his heat-frizzed hair, Julian wondered how the rest of the Federation citizens were faring. He couldn’t imagine anyone who wasn’t coldblooded enjoying the climate very much. He didn’t think even his desert-dwelling ancestors would find the Cardassian heat comfortable.

When he emerged from the bedroom, a pungent odor immediately assaulted his nostrils. It was a familiar and unmistakable scent, bearing hints of rotten fish. It wasn’t exactly a smell to lift the spirits.

He found Garak as chipper as ever, no doubt enjoying the heat that was slowing driving Julian mad. The tailor was sitting at the console with a steaming cup of what could only be fish juice.

Julian didn’t even try to conceal his disgust as he walked past Garak. “Did you have to waste our credits on _that_?” he grumbled, nose wrinkling as he caught a particularly pungent whiff. Of all the things Garak could have chosen from the replicator…

Garak looked up from the console with wide-eyed innocence. “Oh, does the smell bother you?” he asked, knowing full well that it did. “A thousand apologies for insulting your nose, Legate Bashir.”

Julian decided to ignore Garak’s snark as he sifted through the crate of ration bars. At least _he_ would still try to limit their replicator use. After picking out a couple of bars, he turned around to find Garak glancing sidelong at him, lips pulled into a frown.

“What?” Julian asked, mirroring his friend’s expression.

Garak’s face was lined with disapproval as he eyed him over. “Must you walk around like that?”

Eyebrows knitted in confusion, Julian looked down and examined his scrubs. They were a little wrinkled, but otherwise presentable. “Like _what?”_

“With your feet uncovered. It’s rather obscene.”

 _Oh._ Julian looked down at his bare feet, something he hadn’t paid any mind to. He would often walk around his quarters barefoot, so he had thought nothing of it, but apparently that offended some Cardassian sense of modesty. It was a rather silly thing to gripe about, especially when Garak was still poisoning the air with his fish juice.

Julian rolled his eyes. “I thought you’d be fine with seeing much more than my feet after the glance you stole in the shower.” God, what was that? He had been going for sarcastic, but quickly realized how flirtatious his words ended up sounding. He bit his tongue a little too late.

Luckily Garak didn’t respond in kind, turning back to the console with a huff. “My, you have a vivid imagination,” he remarked, eyes widening in emphasis. He then took an indulgent sip of his fish juice, eyes returning to Julian’s in silent challenge.

Julian deliberately gagged at the scent, but said no more. Living with Garak was proving more challenging than he had anticipated, but what was he expecting, really? That a stubborn and irritatingly enigmatic Cardassian would be easy to be around all the time? With his disgusting fish juice and his ridiculous sense of decorum, of course Garak would be impossible to live with. Maybe he was still a little peeved at Garak for keeping their contact’s identity from him, but these were truly aggravating behaviors, and Julian had every right to be annoyed.

As Julian sat at the table gnawing on his breakfast, he found that he was no longer very hungry. His stomach churned when he looked at the second ration bar.

“Have you eaten yet?” he asked Garak.

Garak’s eyes were glued to the console screen. “No.”

“Here.” Julian tossed the bar over to Garak, expecting him to catch it, but whatever Garak was looking at must have been too engrossing. He only took notice after the bar had hit him above the left eye and landed in his lap.

Garak let out an alarmed grunt, turning startled blue eyes on Julian. “I realize we’re both a little on edge this morning, but there’s no reason to be violent!”

“It was an accident!” Julian insisted, raising his hands conciliatorily. “I thought you would catch it.”

Garak seemed to accept Julian’s defense, his shock becoming only mild irritation. “A little more warning next time, please,” he said, rubbing his brow bone. Hissing, he quickly pulled his hand back. “Human skin is so ridiculously fragile,” he complained, bringing a finger back up to carefully touch the sore area. “Doctor, I think you should fetch the dermal regenerator.”

The ration bars were in no way melt-in-your-mouth, but Julian didn’t think they were _that_ hard. Neither was his throw. Julian went over to Garak and examined his mortal wound. Besides being a little red, the area looked perfectly normal for a Cardassian in Human skin. “Calm down, there’s not even a scratch. I think you’ll live.” As he drew his hand back from Garak’s upturned face, his lips curled slightly.

Garak responded with a grunt, not very convinced. He turned back to the console with no more complaints, so Julian left him to his work.

As Julian was finishing the last of his breakfast, Garak rose from the console and turned on their viewscreen.

Julian looked up. They always kept the screen off to conserve power, which he was glad for. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the screen was watching them back, even though he knew Garak had disabled its surveillance features.

There was an official-looking Cardassian on the screen, as there always was on the newscasts he had seen around the city and the hospital. “What is it?” Julian asked, craning his neck to get a better view. The audio was quite low, only a murmur to Julian’s ears.

“An announcement Dukat found important enough to note in his schedule,” Garak answered, watching the screen intently. He fiddled with the volume controls until the Cardassian became audible.

 _“And now we turn to a special message from Chief Executor Rejal,”_ the newscaster said. The screen then cut to a shot of Meya Rejal, a view of the Council Chamber projected cleanly in the background.

Rejal looked much like Julian remembered from their brief meeting on the _Defiant,_ if not slightly more haggard. Trying to govern a post-coup, war-embroiled empire probably had that effect on people.

_“Good morning, Cardassian citizens. As we on the Detapa Council strive to better connect you to the proceedings of our beloved State, I have a brief update on one of our members. Councillor Bremik Pelor has decided to step down from his position on the Council, expressing a desire to spend more time with his family. Teron Regnok will be replacing him as liaison between the Council and Central Command.”_

Julian turned his gaze toward Garak to gauge his reaction. “Anyone you know?” he asked.

Garak appeared to search his memory for a moment before replying. “The name doesn’t stand out to me.”

Turning his attention back to the newscast, Julian found that Rejal had switched topics.

_“I would also like to encourage all citizens to attend the Veterans Commemoration Day celebrations tomorrow. There will be a number of important speeches at the Akleen Memorial. Legate Dukat, our Chief Military Advisor, will be giving a detailed account of Cardassia’s recent victories on the battlefield.”_

After a few parting words, it cut back to the news anchor and Garak turned off the screen.

“A highly embellished account, no doubt,” he remarked with a little scoff. “The reports coming in to Dukat’s console are hardly worth celebrating.”

Julian took a moment to process the newscast before speaking. “Clever how she lied about Pelor.”

When Garak looked back at him, it was with that pleased-to-be-opening-your-naïve-Federation-eyes expression Julian used to see in the context of lunchtime discussions. Now it was occurring much more frequently. “You can hardly expect the Council to openly broadcast the scandal, my dear Doctor,” he maintained.

Again Garak was right. Julian wasn’t naïve enough to think politicians didn’t do this sort of thing all the time. “No, I don’t suppose I can.” His thoughts fell back to now former-councillor Pelor, a topic his conscience was still nagging him about. “Though I can’t help feeling a little responsible for what’s happened to him.”

Garak smiled. “I wouldn’t trouble yourself over it. Pelor’s disgrace would have come to light sooner or later, even without your well-intentioned assistance.”

 

* * *

 

Julian snagged a little time at lunch to run Teron Regnok’s name through the computer, but didn’t find anything noteworthy. His medical record showed nothing out of the ordinary, and he had received both an exam and a plague vaccine in the last few months. He was scheduled to come in for a blood test in the next few days, something that Rejal had evidently mandated for new Council members. At least she was finally taking precautions to prevent a Changeling infiltrator. Or perhaps she was just paranoid of having another possible scandal on her hands.

But that was all the time Julian had had for research. Another patient had been added into quarantine – the young son of a maintenance worker, about nine years old in Human years. He was a little afraid of Julian, having never seen a Human before, but Julian was able to coax him into a brief exam to determine the severity of his condition. He was luckily only in the first stage of the plague, but it angered Julian to know that this could have been prevented if the vaccine was available to the service class. Even with the replicators Starfleet had sent them, the hospital was still working their way down the elites on the waitlist. 

As for his contact, he didn’t run into Telma all day, nor did he make any efforts to seek her out. He doubted he would be able to get any more information out of her until she was ready.

When his shift finally ended and they were riding the shuttle home, Julian felt a little exhausted, both physically and emotionally. Even with all he had seen, it was still difficult to deal with a terminally ill child. It only strengthened his resolve to develop a cure for the Rudellian plague before it could take any more lives.

After reaching their stop in Torr, they were making their way down the walkway when Garak’s voice drew Julian out of his thoughts.

“I think we’ve been cooped up in the apartment for too long. Perhaps a change of scenery might do us some good.”

Julian looked around at all of the little shops lining the street. They didn’t look like they had had much business lately. “Do you have any suggestions?”

“I’ve heard the _geleta_ house on this block is quite nice,” Garak answered.

“Sounds lovely,” Julian agreed. He honestly didn’t know what a _geleta_ house was, but a night out on the town would be good for both of them, especially with the way they had been at each other’s throats that morning.

The _geleta_ house turned out to be that inviting-looking café Julian remembered passing a few times. He found it more crowded than he had expected, especially when the other stores in the neighborhood seemed to be struggling for business. But as he looked around the warm, orange-hued shop, he saw that many people were using it as a gathering place without making any purchases.

When Garak placed an order for two cups of _gelat_ , he seemed rather surprised by the price. Julian was only vaguely familiar with the worth of _leks_ , but he supposed it was very high for a beverage. But it was to be expected. Every day there were more reports of the Maquis raiding Cardassian supply ships, so less and less product was able to reach Prime. This didn’t affect Julian because Starfleet had provided him with all the money he would need for the assignment, but others were far less fortunate.

Julian was a little relieved to spot two Federation civilians in the sea of Cardassians. They exchanged a few pleasantries while they waited for their drinks. They were both engineers, Julian learned, and they didn’t seem to be treated too much like outsiders. They were seated at a table with three rather friendly Cardassians.

After receiving two steaming cups, Garak ushered Julian to a small corner booth that was partially obscured by a synthetic plant and gave him a good view of the entrance. Always prepared.

“This is _gelat,_ ” Garak explained as Julian sniffed the alien liquid. “It’s another popular Cardassian beverage, usually consumed in the morning for its stimulating qualities. I would have introduced it to you earlier, but the replicators do such a poor job at recreating it. I think you might find it more to your taste than fish juice.”

The scent that filled the room and wafted powerfully from the cup was something Julian recalled from the hospital. Parmak enjoyed this drink, if he remembered correctly. The smell wasn’t altogether unpleasant. When he took an experimental sip, a strong, bitter flavor exploded on his tongue. It was somewhat similar to black coffee, only with a hint of dirt mixed in. Still, Garak was right. It was much better than fish juice.

Garak seemed to be eagerly awaiting his opinion, eyes watching intently as he swallowed.

“It’s…” Julian began, contemplating the taste on his tongue. “It’s better than fish juice.”

Garak didn’t seem very impressed by his assessment, regarding him flatly. “There’s really no hope for your palate, is there?”

Julian put up his hands, grinning despite his apologetic tone. “I’m sorry! Perhaps if I added a bit of sweetener…”

Huffing, Garak looked at him as if that was a very inappropriate suggestion. “I shouldn’t have expected someone who drinks _raktajinos_ to appreciate the subtleties of _gelat_ ,” he lamented, shaking his head.

“Subtleties?” Julian laughed, the bitter tang still on his tongue. “There’s hardly anything subtle about it.”

Garak took a languid sip of his _gelat_ before responding. “On your first sip, perhaps not. But upon further tastes, Doctor, you will find that there are quite a few hidden flavors to discover.”

Julian did as he suggested, taking another sip and swirling the liquid around in his mouth for a good minute before swallowing. Perhaps it was just his burnt tongue, but he couldn’t taste much past the initial bitter, dirt-like flavor. “I’ll take your word for it,” he said skeptically, trying not to make a face as he considered the aftertaste.

Perceptive as always, Garak saw the displeasure Julian was trying to hide. He seemed to have moved past offended, his eyes shimmering with amusement. “Now I’m curious to see how you would react to one of the stronger blends.”

“This one _isn’t_ strong?”

Garak smiled, only a glint of mischief disrupting his pleasant nonchalance. “No, I chose a rather weak blend so we won’t be up all night,” he explained. “Would you care to stop here on the way to work sometime?”

Julian took another sip of his _gelat_ as he considered Garak’s proposal. _Gelat_ really wasn’t _that_ bad, especially compared to some of Garak’s other favorite beverages. “Fine, I’ll indulge you,” he acquiesced. “But you’ll owe me a lot to even out our cultural exchange.”

Garak blinked. “I would have thought _this_ would be more than enough,” he said, voice a little softer. He made a broad gesture to his body.

Well that had been a stupid thing to say, Julian realized. He may be experiencing Cardassian culture first-hand, but Garak was practically living the Human experience, at least externally. “You do have a point,” he agreed with a light chuckle. “All right, you’ve earned it. You’ll never have to read another Shakespeare play again.”

Garak’s smile was wide and opaque. “But then what would we argue about, my dear?”

Julian felt warmth spread throughout his body, but attributed it to the _gelat_ and not Garak’s term of endearment. “We’ll find something,” he promised, lifting his cup.

They found something quite soon afterward, it turned out. As they sipped their _gelat_ in between the usual banter, Julian noticed that there were quite a few broadsheet-sized papers floating around the café. Many people held them in their hands as they spoke emphatically to one another. Broadsheets lined almost every table. Garak must have made the same observation, for he managed to procure one from a nearby table.

“Ah,” he murmured, eyes scanning the paper with interest. “I never thought I’d see one of _these_ distributed so openly on Cardassia…”

Julian could only see a jumble of text on the back of the broadsheet, making him more curious. “What is it?” he asked, a little impatient as Garak ignored him.

After a few moments, Garak set down the paper and pushed it across the table. “Read for yourself,” he invited.

Looking down at the broadsheet, Julian’s eyes immediately landed on the large, angular masthead, recognizing the glyphs easily now after all the research he had been doing. _The Voice of the People._

Upon a quick skim-through, Julian found that the broadsheet was full of articles and letters that would have never been allowed on a military-run Cardassia. He was honestly quite surprised to see such thoughts – radical by Cardassian standards – in print at all. Oh, he had heard them mentioned here and there, particularly by Parmak and Telma, but Telma was associated with Starfleet and he didn’t really know about Parmak. He hadn’t expected these sentiments to be popular enough to be circulated in public. It was rather encouraging, actually.

The featured article was a letter from Tekeny Ghemor. Julian didn’t know the Cardassian personally, but he had trusted Kira when she spoke highly of him. It appeared that what he had heard Telma say about Ghemor was true. Still in exile, Ghemor was communicating to his remaining supporters through letters, encouraging them to stay strong through the current hardships. This particular letter sounded hopeful, despite the fact that he had yet to be invited back to take what some people believed was his rightful place as chief executor. No wonder Rejal wasn’t clamoring to see him return.

Another name stood out on the page – Natima Lang. She was still alive and well in exile, it seemed, along with her ideas.

“Elections on Cardassia,” Julian mused aloud after finishing the article.

Garak’s eyes scanned the room for a brief moment before he leaned in. “It’s nice to see that exile hasn’t stopped Professor Lang from spreading her dangerous and absurd ideas,” he commented. He had lowered his voice, making it only audible to Julian in the noisy, crowded shop.

Julian eyed his friend thoughtfully. They had had this conversation a few times before, but neither had been able to bring the other closer to their way of thinking. But they had to be careful if they were going to get into such a debate where surveillance devices might be operating. He wondered if the people here would be distributing broadsheets so openly if they feared surveillance. He would follow Garak’s lead on this one, he decided. Somehow the man always seemed to know when and where it was safe to speak. “I don’t see what’s so ‘dangerous and absurd’ about democracy on Cardassia,” he returned, lowering his voice to match Garak’s volume.

Garak responded with a dramatic eye-roll, lifting his hands as he spoke. “Please, Doctor, next you’ll be suggesting Cardassia join the Federation.”

A little smile spread across Julian’s face as he folded his hands together. “Hardly,” he replied. “I’m not naïve enough to think Cardassians will give up their staunch nationalism just like that.”

There seemed to be a glint of pride in Garak’s eyes as he grinned at him, a teacher proud of his pupil.

“But hear me out, Andy,” Julian continued, careful with the name he used. The room might be noisy, but they were still in public. “What would be so objectionable about the Cardassian people choosing the officials who govern them? I think you’d see some positive changes if politicians had t _o earn_ the people’s approval.”

Garak’s smile immediately faded, replaced by clear disappointment. “And here I had thought you were finally outgrowing your naivety,” he sighed. “Democracy may work on some worlds, but it will not work here.”

Julian remained bold in the face of Garak’s resolute assertion. “And why is that?” he challenged.

“For several reasons,” Garak began, a furtive glance here and there to make sure they hadn’t attracted any attention. But with all the discourse the broadsheets had stirred around the _geleta_ house, it was unlikely they stood out. “As you may have noticed, Prime is not a very resource-rich world, and the rest of the Union is hardly better off,” Garak continued, eyes returning to Julian. “If a democratic style government were to be implemented, the inefficiency alone would lead to poorly managed resources that would ultimately topple the entire system. The stability of Cardassia rests on its leaders’ ability to make quick decisions for the good of the State.”

“But not the good of the people,” Julian argued.

Garak smiled, tutting at what he considered Julian’s tragic ignorance. “The good of the State _is_ the good of the people,” he asserted. “I realize the Federation places such value on individual rights over the collective welfare, but that kind of selfishness would lead to nothing but anarchy here.”

Julian lowered his cup, ready with the perfect counterargument. “Then the current leaders aren’t acting out of selfishness? Rejal’s refusal to let Tekeny Ghemor come home is purely for the good of Cardassia?” He slid the broadsheet back to Garak, finger on an article. “She may claim on the newscasts to want more transparency in government, but it says here that she has yet to even acknowledge the people’s requests.”

Garak gave the article a moment of his attention, but his face remained unchanged. “I agree that Rejal is not a very effective leader,” he said, eyes back on Julian. “She is weak and inefficient, especially if she’s allowing certain individuals to pursue _other interests_ under her nose.” He lowered his voice a touch further there. “And I doubt her sympathetic murmurings are more than an attempt to curry public favor since she can’t seem to keep the people in check,” he added with a quick glance around the café. “But I am not convinced that Ghemor would make a better chief executor. If he were given command, it’s doubtful he’d give these people the elections they’re demanding. Those in power do not so easily relinquish it, despite what righteous promises they make.”

Garak did have a point, but Julian still held onto the belief that there were some genuinely good Cardassians out there. “Then Cardassia needs leaders who are willing to listen to the people,” Julian maintained. “Leaders who are willing to put aside all this factionist bickering and start trying to find some common ground.”

Garak’s smile took on a patronizing edge, as if he were speaking to a cute but misguided child. “Here is another point where your logic is rather simplistic, my dear Doctor. Unless of course you’ve just mixed up your Kardasi again,” he drawled. “You can’t prescribe the cure for an ailment without first understanding it in context of the entire body. The people can hardly be trusted to know what’s best for Cardassia. Political leaders undertake years of rigorous study at the Institute of State Policy. It would require decades of education before the average citizen is knowledgeable enough to vote properly, if such an education were even possible for most people. There are those whose stupidity is not so easily cured. Then Cardassia would be subject to uninformed mob rule, and its collapse would be swift.”

Julian was ready with another counterargument, having missed the philosophical debates that once occurred so frequently in the Replimat. “Would education really be so impossible? Earth and many other worlds have developed educational systems to solve this problem. Doing nothing about it certainly won’t accomplish anything. At least whoever published _this_ is trying to educate the people,” he finished, lifting up the broadsheet.

“Propagandize, more like,” Garak retorted, easing the paper from Julian’s grasp. “In case you’ve forgotten, Cardassia is currently at war. It’s hardly the time to debate radical reform. It’s actually quite ironic, if you think about it...” Holding up the broadsheet, he pointed to a headline that read “Tekeny Ghemor for the People,” and continued. “Here they are calling for a strong leader who will defeat the Klingons and bolster the economy so they won’t need to rely on Federation handouts. But they also hold on to the silly dream of elections, which would bring nothing but inefficiency and instability.”

“I think the people could benefit from a little inefficiency, at least where surveillance is concerned,” Julian argued, lowering his voice to a whisper. After another sip of _gelat_ , he continued. “I can at least give the Detapa Council some credit. A civilian-run government is better than a military dictatorship, and a small step closer to a free and open society. The very existence of this paper is proof.”

Garak didn’t look very convinced as he dabbed his lips with a napkin. “Those sick and starving by the river would probably disagree, Doctor,” he contended. “They would much rather be given food and shelter than a stack of policies to vote on.”

Julian frowned. “I doubt many of them would be sick and starving if the ruling oligarchs didn’t make policies that only benefit themselves.”

As Garak took a long sip of _gelat_ , Julian processed all the arguments Garak had made, trying to better understand his position. Like everything else with Garak, it wasn’t very clear.

“Let me get this straight,” Julian began, opening his hand to count on his fingers. “You think Rejal is a weak leader, but you don’t think Ghemor would be any better, and heaven forbid Cardassian citizens be free to decide their own destiny. Then what do you want, Andy? For Cardassia to return to its glory days when the military and the Order dealt each other one secret backstab after another, the people of Cardassia be damned?”

To Julian’s surprise, Garak only smiled cryptically as he lowered his _gelat_ from his lips. “I only want what’s best for Cardassia. Which is not the Federation dogma you espouse, well-intentioned as you may be.”

It looked like Garak had returned to his customary vagueness. Julian couldn’t help but feel slight disappointment. These arguments usually offered what Julian considered a fairly accurate glimpse into Garak’s mind. He opened his mouth to further challenge the man, but realized that Garak was no longer paying attention.

Julian noticed that Garak’s eyes were slightly wider when his gaze flickered back to him. “What is it?” Julian asked, soft but intent.

There was a small glimmer in Garak’s eyes that upset his perfectly composed mask. “Somebody just walked in who you may recognize,” he replied in a low voice.

With as much subtlety as he could muster, Julian pivoted slightly in his seat and glanced over his shoulder.

A small group of Cardassians had just entered the _geleta_ house, milling around the entrance as they engaged in a spirited discussion. They were all young adults, but only the boy carrying a stack of broadsheets stood out to Julian.

“Rugal,” Julian breathed, immediately turning away. Rugal had made no indication of seeing him, but panic was rising in Julian just the same. It would only take one stray glance for Rugal to see his face, and then the entire mission would be compromised.

Garak seemed to share his concern. “We should be leaving,” he decided, careful not to make any sudden movements.

Julian glanced off to the side, but made no attempt to turn his head again. “Are they still by the entrance?” he asked.

“Yes, but there’s a back door,” Garak replied. Composed as ever, he slid out from the booth and started weaving his way through the crowded tables.

Julian quickly slipped on the sanitary mask he had brought from the hospital, wishing he hadn’t left his full-face dust mask at home that morning. He tried not to appear too stiff or distressed as he followed Garak, keeping his back squarely to the entrance.

Luckily the back door was unlocked, allowing them to slip out before anyone could notice. They found themselves in an empty side alley. As he was hit by a blast of warm evening air, Julian rested his back against the building to give his pulse a moment to calm down. “That was close,” he whispered, removing his mask.

“We know not to visit this establishment again,” Garak said simply. “And you might want to start wearing your dust mask around Torr as well.”

 

* * *

 

When they returned to the apartment, Julian plopped down on the couch to sift through the thoughts that were darting around his mind.

“I’ve been so focused on avoiding the Council that I completely forgot about Rugal,” he sighed, disappointed in himself. He started wracking his brain for any other Cardassian he might have met in the past.

Garak was standing by the balcony door, gazing out at the disappearing red rays as he took his daily dose of hormone suppressors. “It’s quite strange that the son of a prominent Council member would visit such a humble _geleta_ house in Torr,” he mused, pressing the hypospray to his neck.

“Well he’s obviously involved with the group distributing the broadsheets,” Julian commented. He took a few moments to mull over this new information, trying to decide how he could use it to their advantage. At length he raised an idea. “You know, perhaps Rugal might be able to help us. He’s Kotan Pa’Dar’s son, after all, and he’s obviously not happy with the current administration. He might know something about what Dukat’s been up to, or maybe something that would help us unmask the Changeling!”

Garak made his way to the couch and took a seat next to Julian. “That’s a lot of mights and maybes, Doctor. I don’t think it’s worth the risk,” he observed skeptically. “You would have to reveal your identity to him, and there’s no guarantee he would have any of the information we seek.”

Julian would have been surprised if he had heard anything different from Garak. He understood Garak’s caution, but Rugal was not like other Cardassians. “You don’t think I can trust him,” he stated. “But he was more Bajoran than Cardassian when we met him on DS9, and he’s hardly a pawn of the government now.”

Garak looked a little annoyed now, running a finger along his ridgeless brow. “Frankly, Doctor, I’m a little shocked you’re even considering this,” he said, more disappointed than angry. “As a rule you shouldn’t trust anyone, and in this instance you really can’t afford to.”

Garak was right, of course, but Julian wouldn’t give up on his idea just yet. “Then perhaps you could talk to him?” he suggested.

The look on Garak’s face told him what an impractical proposal that was. “Even if he had such sensitive information, do you think he would trust it to a perfect stranger?” he asked.

Julian’s shoulders slumped as he realized how unrealistic his suggestion had been. But it was worth exploring all the options as they presented themselves. Again he was glad he had Garak to bounce ideas off of. “No, I don’t suppose he would,” he assented.

“Of course there is always a different method of extracting information…”

Julian eyed Garak dubiously, fairly certain what the Cardassian was alluding to. “No,” he said firmly. He would not even consider that. “We’ll just have to keep monitoring Dukat until we find something.”

Surprisingly enough, Garak didn’t try to fight him on this, simply nodding as he rose from the couch. “It appears that’s all we can do right now,” he agreed. When he paused and looked back, there was a smirk on his lips. “But by all means, keep reading their broadsheets. Perhaps one day they might contain something more useful than nonsensical ideology.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm loosely writing this fic around the events in Una McCormack's "The Never Ending Sacrifice," only certain things will be changed or moved around.
> 
> Also, I apologize if anything in here sounds insanely stupid. I've been sick all weekend and I know that's not the best time to write a debate between two very different political ideologies. But I'm trying to stay consistent with my updates.
> 
> Tune in next week for Dukat, a speech, and another inconvenience of human skin.


	8. Dukat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legate Dukat makes a rousing speech and introduces a friend.

Julian raised a hand to wipe the sweat off his brow, only to have it collide with the visor of his dust mask. This was the third time he done that, but the beads trickling down his moist skin were really starting to irritate him. The merciless Cardassian sun was beating down on his body, and while the respiratory mask was great for keeping out dust and dangerous gazes, there wasn’t much to be said for its heat resistance.

His vision was also limited, which made navigating through the dense crowd even more challenging. He knew there would be a large turnout at the celebration of a major Cardassian holiday, but his estimates hadn’t prepared him for just how cramped it would be inside the throng. It was all he could to do to keep sight of Garak as the crowd swept them along like a flowing river.

When the crowd finally halted its lumbering progression, fanning out around the Akleen Memorial and its surrounding parade grounds, Julian was glad to have joined up with a few other Federation citizens. He wasn’t necessarily nervous, but there was safety in numbers, especially when you were a Human hemmed in by a sea of patriotic Cardassians. Besides, the presence of other species helped him stand out a little less.

They could have simply watched this event on the ‘casts, but Julian felt the urge to be out here amidst the action. And since Parmak had been kind enough to give them the day off, it was the perfect opportunity to observe Dukat in person. Julian couldn’t get too close, but his mask and the crowd offered him cover that he didn’t usually have.

But staying vigilant was proving difficult. Turning his head left and right, Julian struggled to take in everything around him with his peripheral vision so limited. Garak was standing slightly in front of him, his body more tense than usual, as if coiled in wait for a potential threat. But perhaps even stranger were his clothes, something Julian only now realized were unusual. He hadn’t really paid attention to what Garak wore outside of the hospital, but his current attire looked like something a twentieth-century Human would wear, especially the red-orange turtleneck.

Suddenly Garak was taking off his dust mask and turning to face him. Julian’s concern must have been visible through his dark visor.

“I’m afraid this limits my vision a little too much,” Garak explained, his lips near Julian’s ear. “But don’t worry, the dust is hardly any danger to me.”

Though by now Julian could pick out everything that was Garak under his Human exterior, he supposed Garak looked sufficiently different enough to get away with going bare-faced. Julian would just have to sweat and suffer alone. Before he could offer some reply, a cheer erupted from all around them.

A thundering chorus of brass and drums signaled the approach of the troops. Craning his neck, Julian spotted a steady stream of Cardassian soldiers as they marched down the tree-lined walkway, flanked by the crowd on both sides. He was only able to catch a glimpse of Dukat near the front of the procession before the Betazoid journalist elbowed her way in front of Julian.

Though most of the military was out on the front lines, Cardassia’s home defense was not lacking in size or polish. The sheer number of resolute faces and shiny uniforms was enough to make the hair on the back of Julian’s neck stand up. He instinctively shifted closer to Garak, resisting the urge to hover his hand near his concealed phaser.

When the music had ended with a long, ringing note, the soldiers had lined themselves neatly around the Akleen Memorial. Underneath the memorial was a raised dais where a podium stood, draped with an imposing Cardassian emblem.

Garak had chosen their spot in the crowd strategically, Julian realized. While still at a safe distance, they were just close enough to distinguish faces up on the dais. There was Gul Dukat – no, he was a legate now – exchanging a quick word with a shorter man before taking the podium.

“My fellow Cardassians – It is with great honor that I speak to you today, on Veteran Commemoration Day, in front of the resting place of one of Cardassia’s greatest heroes,” Dukat began, his voice ringing out over the crowd. “The father of our beloved Union. He was the first of many heroes who devoted their lives and sacrificed everything to ensure Cardassia’s survival. Now we see these glorious deeds being relived by our fathers and mothers, our brothers and sisters, our husbands and wives, who have again answered the call of duty, a duty we all share – to see this beautiful civilization continue. And as Chief Executor Rejal reminded us in her address this morning, it is not a duty that we can take lightly.”

Julian looked around to see many heads bobbing reverently.

“Many new heroes have risen up,” Dukat continued, raising his fist emphatically. “Names that will be etched in the statues around the Veterans’ Bridge for future generations to honor. But we fight not _only_ for Cardassia’s survival, for she will survive – we are a resilient people! We fight for a safe Cardassia, a prosperous Cardassia, a powerful Cardassia! A Cardassia that will make her enemies shudder at the sound of her name, and look upon the Klingons’ defeat as a grave warning. Do not be disheartened, my fellow Cardassians. The Klingons’ defeat _is_ coming, and very soon. Many great victories have already been won. The Klingons are on the edge of defeat. We have but simply to turn the knife, and their empire will come toppling down.” He rotated his hand to demonstrate. “I promise you, the Klingon Empire will quickly taste the regret of provoking us, a taste that they will not soon forget – nor will the rest of the Alpha Quadrant.”

A rapturous cheer erupted after Dukat’s bold promise. Julian forced himself to clap – though with much less enthusiasm – so his stillness wouldn’t draw attention to himself. Looking over, he saw that Garak was clapping as well.

Dukat’s voice had now grown sickeningly sweet. “Of course we must not forget the small kindness we have been shown by the Federation,” he said as the crowd grew silent. “The industrial replicators they have sent to our food distribution depots and hospitals have helped lessen the blow of the Maquis’ attacks. But let us not forget that the Maquis would not be out there terrorizing our colonies and destroying our supply ships if not for the tolerance of the Federation. Yes, we will remember this kindness indeed.”

As murmuring broke out among the crowd, Julian felt bodies start to press closer in on him. He tried to remain calm, but a pervasive sense of dread was quickly settling over him. Suddenly it seemed like their little group of Federation citizens was attracting many unpleasant gazes. His hand fell instinctively to his hip.

But then Dukat was speaking again, voice soaring with assurance, and the tension broke.

“Look to the future with optimism, my fellow Cardassians, for the sun is shining down on our Union!” he declared, raising a hand up to the sky. “We will fight until we have everything that is ours restored to us! For Cardassia!”

“For Cardassia!” the crowd echoed before breaking out into another cheer.

Julian frowned behind his visor, gazing around at the sea of zealous Cardassians. It was hard to believe that somewhere inside this patriotic throng were the people who wrote and distributed the broadsheets in Torr.

It appeared that Dukat wasn’t finished speaking. After nodding to the officials on his right, he continued. “Now I would like to introduce you to a good friend of mine, a man whose name you have no doubt heard on the newscasts – Councillor Regnok.”

A young man stepped onto the dais, someone Julian recognized from a medical file image. Shifting to get a better view, he studied the new councillor carefully.

“He has asked to say a few words, which I will allow…” Dukat said, his lips curling in a smile that tried to appear amiable, but came across as patronizing. “But not before I take a moment to speak to his character. I know this man, and though he is young, his devotion to Cardassia is unshakable. I believe he would be an excellent addition to the Detapa Council, and will help us all lead Cardassia into a prosperous future.”

Julian continued to watch Regnok intently as he began his speech, echoing the same patriotic platitudes that Dukat had begun with. He was certainly not as great an orator as Dukat, or as charismatic as Garak, and it seemed likely that this was his first speech in front of such a large audience. Still, when you looked past the halting delivery and occasional voice quivers, he seemed like an intelligent man.

“I am honored to be serving as liaison between the Detapa Council and Central Command, a position which I feel is important to the stability of our great State,” Regnok went on, eyes only occasionally glancing down at his padd. “I realize that there has not always been the best cooperation between these two branches, but I am convinced that a better relationship is possible, one centered on communication and mutual trust. Standing here today before our troops, it is obvious how vital a role our military plays in the security of Cardassia. I promise you that I will work to facilitate better conversation between the Council and Central Command, and I offer my life up in service to Cardassia.”

If anyone in the audience was bothered by this flowery description of a post that was essentially supposed to keep Central Command in check, they didn’t let it show. They seemed just as enthralled with Regnok’s promises as they had with Dukat’s, and when the young councillor ended with another rousing “for Cardassia!” the crowd repeated it back with equal fervor.

Though muffled by his dust mask, the unifying cry still rang stridently in Julian’s ears. Curious how Garak was responding to all this, he looked over to his right, but Garak was no longer there. Startled, Julian began turning around, trying to see past the edges of his mask to find his friend. Strange Cardassian faces looked back at him, along with a few Federation citizens, but none of them were Garak. He was nearly on the verge of panic when a hand pressed on his shoulder.

Garak’s Human mask betrayed no emotion as he stood in front of Julian.

“Where’d you go?” Julian asked, too startled to keep the worry from his voice.

Garak quirked an eyebrow. “I never left.”

 

* * *

 

Soon after they had returned home, Julian curled up on the couch with a handful of padds, determined to make the best use of his free time. There were still so many studies left to read that might give him an insight into curing the plague. While he knew the nurses and doctors at Central were excellent (it was the best hospital in the city, after all), he still felt a little anxious when he thought about his patients, particularly the youngest one. Like always, he channeled that anxiety into a relentless work ethic.

He hardly paid Garak any mind until he heard a sudden, sharp hiss. Looking up, Julian noticed something different about his friend as he sat stooped over the console. His face was a vivid red.

“Oh dear,” Julian said, setting his padds aside and rising from the couch. He was soon at Garak’s side, examining the damage with gentle fingers. “Your poor face.”

Garak flinched away from Julian’s touch, his features impassive but for the tension in his jaw. “Do Humans go through some sort of molting process I am not aware of?” he asked blandly.

Julian’s lips curled into a grin as his fingers followed Garak’s face. “No, it’s just a sunburn. It can happen when you’re out in the sun too long,” he explained, contemplating Garak’s reddened skin. Good, no signs of blistering. “This doesn’t look too bad.”

“Glad to know it doesn’t look as dreadful as it feels,” Garak remarked dryly.

Julian was used to fussy patients, but Garak was turning out to be quite the complainer. After rolling his eyes, he briefly scanned his friend for other affected areas. But thanks to Garak’s long-sleeved turtleneck, it looked like only his face had been burnt. “Nothing the dermal regenerator can’t fix,” Julian assured him. “Come here.”

With a hand on Garak’s shoulder, he coaxed the Cardassian out of his chair and onto the couch where it would be easier to work. The afternoon sun was streaming through the glass door, helping the dim lamps brighten the room.

Rummaging through his medkit, Julian first brought out the medical tricorder to determine the extent of dermal damage.

At least Garak was cooperating, though he looked rather grumpy as he sat squinting in the bright light. “Really, Doctor, this is absurd,” he commented, impatience coloring his voice. “How you Humans have managed to survive this long with such impractical and defenseless skin is beyond my comprehension.”

After verifying that it was indeed only a first degree burn, Julian turned back to his medkit. “We adapt where we need to,” he explained as pulled out the dermal regenerator. “People groups who have historically dwelt in hotter regions have darker skin pigmentation. My ancestors originated from one of Earth’s hottest deserts, so I don’t have to worry about sunburns. Unfortunately for you, Dr. Selvik gave you the fair complexion of a colder-climate Human.” He punctuated this observation by slipping a finger under Garak’s chin to turn his face toward the light. “This might sting a little,” he warned.

Julian started the regenerator at the top of Garak’s forehead, placing a hand on the back of his head to keep it steady. His hair was surprisingly soft, albeit a little greasy, but the same could be said for his own hair. This was a bit of a more hands-on approach than usual, but Garak wasn’t known for being the most cooperative patient, so he had to take extra measures.

If the accelerated healing of his epidermis affected Garak, he didn’t let it show. “Perhaps instead of changing color, you should have developed some scales,” he suggested sagely. “They really do wonders. No sunburns, no little cuts or bruises, no pesky hairs growing everywhere.”

Julian smiled. “That sounds quite nice, actually. I’d love to not have to shave anymore,” he remarked wistfully. “Maybe I’ll try a Cardassian body someday...Though Kira didn’t seem too eager to recommend it.” He was running the regenerator down Garak’s nose now.

Garak waited until Julian had finished the area around his mouth before replying. “A shame,” he tutted. “That was the most ravishing the major ever looked.”

Chuckling, Julian wondered how Kira would respond to that compliment. “How do you think I’d look as a Cardassian?” he asked idly, hovering the regenerator over each cheek in turn.

Garak kept his features motionless under Julian’s device, but there was a twinkle in his eye that suggested a smile. “Ridges and scales would do nothing but improve your appearance, my dear Doctor…though I can’t say it requires improvement now.”

Julian didn’t know what to make of that comment, so he just laughed as he moved the regenerator to Garak’s chin. “I thought you weren’t very fond of the Human exterior…what was it that you called me? A hairy ridgeless creature?”

Garak chuckled – not a caustic chuckle, but a warm, seemingly genuine one. “It may not be pleasant to live inside, but I can admit it has a certain aesthetic appeal,” he remarked, raising his gaze to Julian.

It was nearly impossible to keep himself from blushing under Garak’s gaze, and he wondered, not for the first time, why Garak would say things like this – and why, for that matter, a compliment about his well-known attractiveness would have any effect on him. He took a moment to school his features into the professional gaze of a doctor as he finished up the last sunburnt skin on Garak’s jawline. In the silence a recent memory stirred, reminding him of a question he had wanted to ask.

“I think having a Cardassian exterior would be quite enlightening,” Julian mentioned casually, careful how he transitioned subjects. “It would teach me so many things I still don’t know about your people, like your apparent chameleon traits.”

Garak’s eyes were on back on Julian, intrigued if not a little suspicious. “I have a feeling you’re fishing, Doctor…But I shall indulge you. Chameleon?”

Julian took a moment to step back and examine his work before replying. Garak’s face was as good as new.

“A chameleon is a Terran reptile that can change its color slightly to blend in with its environment,” Julian began as he closed his medkit. “It’s the only explanation I can think of for what you did in the crowd. I was certain I had lost you, but a moment later you were back where you were.” He took a seat next to Garak, confusion projected plainly on his forehead.

“Ah, I had a feeling you would ask about that,” Garak remarked, leaning back against the cushions. “I never did leave your side, I only withdrew my presence when I sensed an anti-Federation sentiment from the crowd. A rather old habit, I’m afraid.” He took a moment to ponder before saying, “It’s more akin to a Cardassian _regnar_ than a Terran chameleon, as it involves lowering one’s energy instead of altering pigments.”

Fascinated, Julian found himself angling his body more towards Garak. “That’s incredible. Can all Cardassians withdraw their presence?” he asked.

“It’s a skill only a few can master,” Garak replied, smiling at Julian’s eager curiosity. “My friend Elim taught it to me many years ago when we were quite young.”

A sly smile spread across Julian’s features. It had been quite some time since he last thought about his conversation with Enabran Tain. He had almost forgotten that he had this little piece of knowledge that Garak didn’t know about. It actually made him feel quite powerful. But no, now seemed like a lackluster time to reveal it, so he would play ignorant. “Ah, yes, Elim,” he said as if he was recalling the name. “Do you think we might run into him on Prime? What’s he up to these days?” He rested his arm across the back of the couch and stretched out casually.

If Garak suspected his knowledge, he made no indication. “I’m afraid there’s been no word of Elim for quite some time,” he lamented. “It’s unknown whether he joined Tain’s futile attack on the Founders’ homeworld, or if he simply made himself disappear.”

Julian smiled at his lying friend. “Well if anyone can uncover things that aren’t meant to be found, it’s you, Garak,” he commented, his tone rather affectionate.

Garak’s smile was only half as bright as Julian’s, a little preoccupied. “I’m flattered by your confidence in me, Doctor, but lately I haven’t been too sure about that,” he admitted, letting frustration seep into his voice. “Despite my best efforts, I am still unable to access the Council’s computers or surveillance systems. There is an absurd amount of interrogative subroutines, and I fear if I don’t take the utmost care, I’ll trip some alarm and alert them of my attempts. It’s one of the few places where security is impenetrable.”

Julian observed the man for a moment, reading the visible signs of vexation on his face. He knew that Garak’s hacking talents were unparalleled, so being met with continuous failure must be trying his patience. “I guess we know where they’re investing their resources,” he remarked. “Were you able to find anything notable on Councillor Regnok?”

Garak let out a rather sarcastic laugh. “Notable? No. Quark’s brother Rom has done more notable things than this friend of Dukat’s,” he scoffed. Then the humor left his eyes. “But that’s precisely what I find so interesting about him.”

Julian shifted in his seat. “How so?”

“It’s his very mediocrity that raises my suspicions. He comes from a family with neither wealth nor title, nor has he done anything worthy of record. Until very recently, he was just another bureaucrat in the Ministry of Trade. Does that sound like the kind of man to attract Dukat’s attention, someone Dukat would personally endorse?”

“No,” Julian responded, the cogs in his brain turning rapidly. “Sounds like reason enough to suspect he’s our Changeling, or at least involved in the Dominion plot. Why else would Dukat help secure a nobody’s position on the Council? In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if Dukat knew about Pelor’s disease and was just waiting for him to be discovered, ready to swoop in and plant his own man on the Council. Though he must hold some influence with Rejal if he was able to convince her.”

Garak seemed to enjoy watching the realization dawn across Julian’s expressive features. “I must say I’m quite pleased, Doctor,” he said, voice colored with pride. “I didn’t have to spell this one out for you. We might make a spy of you yet.”

Julian grinned, rolling his eyes at Garak’s usual condescension but recognizing the compliment. “Coming from you, that’s high praise.” When he laughed, his knee briefly brushed Garak’s leg.

Garak seemed unaffected by the contact, his newly-healed forehead furrowed in thought. “Of course there are many possible explanations for Dukat’s interest in Regnok, but it’s at least reason to keep an eye on him. I’ll continue my efforts to access the Council’s computers.” He paused for a moment before asking, “When is Regnok’s blood test scheduled for?”

“Tomorrow afternoon,” Julian answered.

“Then let’s hope your contact knows how to sneak a weapon past the hospital’s censors. She might want to be armed.”

 

* * *

 

Central Hospital was exceptionally busy the following day, filled with many new patients recovering from heat stroke and dehydration caused by yesterday’s parades and orations. Doctors and nurses were dashing through the halls all day, but Julian had enough work to catch up on with his own patients. It had been two days since he administered an experimental antibiotic, and while his initial scans showed no obvious effect, he needed to take a deeper analysis.

The afternoon found Julian in laboratory D with Garak at his side, analyzing tissue samples from his patients’ lungs. The results were surprisingly encouraging, at least compared to his dismal accomplishments thus far. The samples from the young adults – Mizda and Ekoh – showed mild improvement. But with the boy, it was difficult to tell. So far the antibiotic appeared to have no effect, but he was at least in a stable condition. And as for the old man…well, Julian didn’t hold out too much hope for him. He was still not responding to any of Julian’s treatments, and he now required higher doses of triptacederineI to keep him sedated.

The whoosh of the doors drew Julian’s gaze up from his tests. When Parmak poked his head in, he looked more than a little overwhelmed.

“Ah, there you are,” Parmak said in way of greeting. “I hate to interrupt your work, but I’ve just been called away on a house call and I have Councillor Regnok coming in at third bell for a blood test. Would you mind taking care of that? It’s just a routine test, it shouldn’t take more than a few metrics.”

Julian rose from his chair. “Of course,” he replied. “It’s no trouble.”

Parmak’s smile was all relieved gratitude. “Thank you. He’ll be in waiting room 11.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been discovered that chameleons change their color more to reflect their mood than for camouflage, but the chameleon analogy worked for the scene. Also I read a National Geographic article that said they still can change their color slightly to blend in so... (Spoiler alert, I'm not a scientist...or a doctor for that matter. You'll probably find some flaws in my research haha.)
> 
> Tune in next week for a blood test, a protest, and a little fall of rain.


	9. Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian and Garak give the new councillor a blood test and run into some protesters in Torr.

The doors slid open to reveal a well-dressed Cardassian man sitting on a biobed, his lower face concealed by a sanitary mask. Garak stood nearby with a tricorder, taking his vitals as Julian entered the exam room. Things didn’t look too bad, Julian observed as he donned his most welcoming expression under his mask. At least their potential Changeling didn’t seem openly distressed by the presence of two Humans.

“Councillor Regnok,” Julian greeted, raising his hand to press palms. “I’m Dr. El Fadil, and I see you’ve already met Nurse Robinson.”

“I have,” Regnok answered, meeting his palm briefly. “A pleasure to meet you both.” His demeanor was friendly enough, but there was something that seemed a bit reserved.

Garak turned to Julian with the hints of a smile under his mask. “I was just explaining to the councillor about the Federation civilian relief effort and the work you’ve been doing on the Rudellian plague.”

Returning his gaze to Julian, Regnok said, “It’s encouraging to hear of your efforts, and it makes me confident that the chief executor made the right decision in opening our borders to foreign aid.”

As Regnok spoke, Julian caught a note of the same aloofness he had heard in his Veteran Commemoration Day speech. “I’m just happy we can help,” Julian responded brightly, ignoring the lack of gratitude in Regnok’s statement.

Garak hovered around Regnok with the medical tricorder, passing a hand scanner over his head. “I believe congratulations are in order, Councillor, on your recent appointment to the Detapa Council,” he remarked as he checked some data on the device. “I heard your speech on the ‘casts yesterday. It was quite moving.”

“Thank you,” Regnok replied, sitting rather stiffly under the scans. “I’m grateful for the opportunity to serve Cardassia.”

As Garak continued speaking and hovering, Julian noticed that he was taking the same readings over and over. “To be appointed to an important and public position at such a young age must be a great honor, I’m sure,” Garak expressed, almost annoyingly pleasant. “I can’t help but wonder if the position seems a bit daunting. Liaison between the Detapa Council and Central Command… I can’t imagine taking on so much responsibility when I was your age.”

Regnok shrugged. “I suppose it’s a little challenging right now,” he admitted, eyeing Garak’s smile. “But I’m confident I’ll acclimate quickly. My colleagues have been very helpful.”

Garak’s grin stretched from ear to ear. “That’s wonderful to hear. The help of friends is invaluable, wouldn’t you agree, Sid?” He beamed at Julian, but gave him no chance to respond before diving into his next train of thought. “Ah, but do forgive my nosiness. You must be wondering why a Human would take such an interest in Cardassian politics, but politics are somewhat of a passion of mine. And the Cardassian political system is quite fascinating, especially with its many recent changes.”

Regnok’s demeanor remained polite, but Julian could detect a hint of impatience below the surface. “That it is,” he agreed, folding his arms. “But I’m afraid I have a meeting at fourth bell, so if you wouldn’t mind getting started...”

Julian chose this moment to step in, shoeing Garak and his tricorder away. As useful as Garak’s probing might be, the last thing they needed was to draw Regnok’s suspicions or aggravate him. “Of course, I apologize. Andy here can be a bit of a talker…” he said, then leaned closer and whispered, “His stepmother was Cardassian.”

Garak made a questioning murmur from behind Julian.

Regnok didn’t look too amused by the joke, so Julian quickly turned back to Garak. “Andy, the hypo?”

Garak responded with as much affected amiability as ever. “Of course, my dear Doctor,” he said, handing him the hypospray.

“This’ll just take a moment, then you can be on your way,” Julian assured his patient, taking a step closer. “Hold out your arm, please.”

As he brought the hypospray to Regnok’s arm, he let it hover for a moment as his other hand slipped into his pocket, fingering the hypospray that lay hidden there. A powerful sedative was the only form of defense they could carry at the hospital when there were weapon scanners at every entrance. He glanced back at Garak to see him also bring a hand to his pocket.

The _pssh_ of compressed air sounded abnormally loud as he pressed the hypo to Regnok’s arm. Julian tried to school his features into neutrality, but a bit of his anxiety revealed itself on his furrowed brow. He wished that they had more backup, but Telma was occupied in surgery and there wasn’t anyone else they could trust. His eyes flickered between Regnok and the hypo, ready for any sudden movements of either the patient or his blood.

But after studying the vial for a few moments, Julian’s shoulders began to relax. Regnok was still seated placidly on the biobed and the blood was not changing form. It was behaving like any vial of blood would.

Stepping back, Julian handed the sample to Garak with only the slightest nod before addressing the councillor. “There, all done. You’ll get the results within twenty-six hours.”

After Regnok had thanked them and left, Julian found Garak’s gaze fixed on him. He glanced pointedly at the viewscreen on the wall before saying, “He seems pleasant enough.”

“Perhaps, but I can see why the legate has taken a liking to him,” Garak observed, eyes glinting.

 

* * *

 

It was disappointing that he wasn’t any closer to unmasking the Changeling on Cardassia, but this time Julian was a little more accustomed to the feeling. It had been a hunch from the beginning, and as his experience with Pelor had proven, his hunches were usually flawed. He was soothed by the fact that he still had one target to focus on – Dukat. Sooner or later, Dukat would lead him to his Changeling ally. He just needed to be patient. And though Regnok had turned out to be clean, Julian wasn’t convinced that he wasn’t somehow involved in this, especially with his suspicious ties to Dukat.

Regnok’s blood sample turned out to be completely healthy, something Rejal was sure to be glad of. After logging it in the computer, Julian dismissed any further thoughts on the matter and refocused his attention on the plague conundrum.

The sky was veiled in clouds when Julian and Garak started home after their shift. By the time they arrived at their shuttle stop, Torr was bathed in a thick blanket of gloom. Flickering street lamps and the occasional functioning viewscreen stood out starkly as they attempted to illuminate the district. It was strange to see the streets and buildings without the harsh highlights and shadows that were usually projected onto them. It was certain to make a brilliant sunset if any rays could find their way through the clouds.

At least the heat wasn’t as oppressive, Julian noticed as he shifted his dust mask into a more comfortable position. It was rather large for him and had a habit of bumping against his nose when he walked. But thanks to the presence of Rugal, he had to wear it on the streets of Torr as well. Garak, on the other hand, was enjoying full use of his peripheral vision as he strolled beside him. Julian wondered, not for the first time, if he should have undergone cosmetic surgery as well. Things would be less complicated, at least.

He was drawn out of his thoughts when he noticed a group of about twenty people standing outside the corner _geleta_ house they had visited the other night. A good number of people were holding what appeared to be handwritten signs. Others were handing out broadsheets to passersby. As they drew closer with the flow of pedestrians, Julian was able to read the words on a few of the signs – “Bring Tekeny Home,” “Give Us a Voice,” and “Elections on Cardassia!”

There was chanting too, Julian realized as they continued to draw closer to the group. They were now at a distance where he could discern faces, and as far as he could tell, Rugal was not among them. That made him feel a little safer, so instead of crossing the street, he followed Garak’s lead and continued past them.

But as they were walking by, one young man near the front of the group exclaimed, “If Tekeny Ghemor was chief executor, we wouldn’t need to accept Federation handouts! We could hold our heads high again!”

“Yes!” the man next to him agreed, a little louder than the first. “We wouldn’t have to tolerate these aliens living on our world!”

Julian tensed slightly as he felt their gazes on him and Garak, but continued to move forward in the slow-moving crowd, following his unperturbed friend. Suddenly he felt something wet land on his hand. Tilting his head to the sky, he saw that the clouds were quite dark as a couple droplets splashed against his visor. Was it raining on Cardassia? It seemed so unlikely…

A voice drew Julian’s attention away from the sky. “Hey, if your fragile lungs can’t handle the air here, you’re welcome to go home, Human!” the man continued to shout.

Having been directly addressed, Julian saw no choice but to stop and respond. “There’s no need to be hostile, we’re only here to help you,” he explained, speaking loud enough to be heard through his visor. He tried to keep his tone calm, hoping to diffuse the situation before the man turned violent.

As the group began to murmur amongst themselves, Julian heard someone say, “Oh, this one can speak Kardasi? That’s more than the rest of his ilk.”

The protester’s features wrinkle in disgust. “We don’t need your _help_!” he spat, drawing aggressively closer to Julian. “We don’t need any more weaknecks taking our resources when there’s barely enough to go around!”

Julian bristled at the racial pejorative. He opened his mouth to speak, but then noticed something peculiar beyond the group of protesters. A block up the street was an armored skimmer of the city constabulary, and standing beside it were two officers. It was clear by their scowls that they were not pleased, yet they made no move to stop the protest.

“We can thank Rejal for that!” another protester exclaimed, drawing Julian’s attention back to the group.

“Yes!” someone else agreed. “Rejal is no friend to Cardassia!”

Julian had nearly forgotten about Garak’s presence until he stepped beside him, staring silently at the hostile protester. Julian was a little surprised that _Garak_ of all people was avoiding an argument, especially when this man was being needlessly incendiary. Perhaps it was the police he was worried about, but he doubted they could hear them from where their skimmer was parked, and they didn’t seem inclined to intervene.

“Look, I agree with your desire for democracy!” Julian cut in, raising his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “I think elections would do a lot of good on Cardassia, lead to a more free and open society – ”

“My dear…” Garak’s hand was heavy on Julian’s back, rubbing a small circle between his shoulder blades. A warning.

The man eyed Garak with open disgust before he turned his ire back on Julian. “Oh, here you go with your smug superiority, thinking we give a vole’s ass about an outsider’s opinion!” he sneered. “All you Federation types are the same. Well we don’t need your meddling or your pity! You all come here acting like our saviors, but you’re the reason the Maquis is prolonging the war!”

Julian frowned behind his dust mask, struggling to retain his composure. Droplets were hitting his visor rapidly now. It really _was_ raining.

“The Federation is doing all they can to stop the Maquis – ”

But Julian wasn’t given the chance to finish his counterargument. Before he had time to react, there were two hands shoving roughly at his chest, sending him stumbling back a few paces. Then Garak’s body was in front of him.

“I would appreciate it if you kept your hands off of my friend,” Garak said, danger lurking below his polite tone.

A few things happened at once, giving Julian little time to react to them. Someone in the crowd was commenting on Garak’s Kardasi when the combative protester in front of them suddenly threw a fist at Garak’s face. Keeling sideways, Garak ended up sprawled on the wet pavement, blinking in shock.

A few gasps were intermixed with the murmuring of the crowd as Julian hastened to Garak’s side. He knew they needed to get out of there quickly before things could further escalate, giving him hardly any time to assess the damage. At least there was no blood. Garak seemed a little dazed as Julian pulled him to his feet, but he brushed off Julian’s attempts to help him walk.

As they headed swiftly down the walkway, Julian glanced back to see the police officers still scowling by their skimmer. The rain was coming down harder now, driving the protesters and their wet signs inside the _geleta_ house.

 

* * *

 

The rain only grew heavier as they made their way home, leaving them soaked, and in Garak’s case, shivering. Julian found the rain quite refreshing, a welcome respite from the planet’s oppressive heat. But after they had both changed into dry clothes, Julian emerged from the bedroom to find Garak still shivering on the couch, bundled in his blankets.

“Are you all right?” Julian asked, voice laced with concern. Retrieving his medical tricorder, he was soon at Garak’s side.

“Right as rain, as the expression goes,” Garak muttered sullenly from his cocoon. His body was trembling visibly and his face was very pale as it peaked out from the blankets. “Rain on Cardassia is much-needed, of course, but I would have rather it started at a less inopportune moment.”

Hovering the tricorder over his friend, Julian was startled to find how low his body temperature had fallen. “Well this isn’t good,” he murmured, double-checking the readings to be sure. “You’re in danger of hypothermia.”

As a particularly violent shiver wracked Garak’s body, he drew the blankets tighter around him. “I could have told you that without the tricorder, Doctor,” he huffed, voice quivering slightly.

Confusion was written on Julian’s forehead as he studied his trembling friend. Besides a little dampness in the hair, Garak was perfectly dry. “I don’t understand, it’s quite warm in here and you’re pretty much dry. Do all Cardassians experience such a dramatic temperature drop when it rains?”

“Only the ones with thin Human skin,” Garak responded, a hint of resentment in his tone.

“That would explain it,” Julian realized. Since Garak’s hands were currently buried underneath the blankets, Julian brought his hand to the man’s forehead to feel his skin. It was icy cold. Ectothermic blood and a Human epidermis seemed like a bad combination at the moment. “We need to find a way to raise your body temperature.”

Leaving his friend to shiver alone for a moment, Julian went to the bedroom to retrieve his spare blanket. The nights had been much too hot for him to use it.

Garak’s gaze looked genuinely grateful as Julian came back with the extra blanket. “Here,” the doctor said, draping it over Garak’s shoulders. “This is all I have and I’m afraid we don’t have enough credits to replicate another one. Perhaps some tea would help?”

Garak’s pale hands ventured out of their shelter briefly to pull the new blanket more tightly around him. “I’m afraid I’ve already used my share of the replicator credits for this week,” he lamented.

“Don’t worry, I have a few left.”

“Doctor –”

Julian was already half-way to the replicator when he interrupted Garak. “Protest all you want, but the Hippocratic Oath demands I give my shivering Cardassian friend some tea,” he stated firmly, resisting the urge to blame Garak’s fish juice for his lack of credits.

“An oddly specific oath,” Garak remarked drily, voice a little weaker than normal.

It only took a moment for the replicator to produce a piping hot mug of redleaf tea. It was far too warm for Julian’s hands, so he was glad to relinquish it to Garak. “There you go.”

Garak cautiously extended a hand from his cocoon and accepted the mug. “Thank you,” he murmured, a little sigh escaping his lips after the first sip.

After taking a seat next to him on the couch, Julian allowed Garak a few moments to indulge in the warm liquid before attending to another matter. When Garak lowered the mug from his lips, Julian was ready with his tricorder, leaning closer to his face. “Let me take a look at that bruise,” he urged.

His hands wrapped snugly around his mug, Garak was remarkably cooperative as Julian examined the angry purple that was blooming around his left eye. They were lucky the protester’s fist had left only a black eye, much easier to fix with the medkit than a broken nose or dislodged teeth.

As Julian pulled out the dermal regenerator, he couldn’t help but find this all a little humorous. He answered Garak’s questioning gaze with a smile. “I’ve had to use this so much recently, I think I should just keep it on me.”

Garak huffed into his mug, taking a moment to sip its warmth-giving liquid before replying. “You can hardly blame me for being unaccustomed to this fragility,” he muttered, eyeing the regenerator grumpily as Julian brought it nearer.

After Julian had healed the bruised skin around Garak’s eye, he started to gently ease the blankets from his shoulders. Garak was quick to protest, nearly spilling his tea as he pulled away from Julian, wrapping the blankets even more tightly around his body. “Doctor, what are you –”

“I need to examine the rest of you,” Julian explained, frowning at his stubborn patient. Peering into the mug that Garak had set down, he could see that the tea was almost gone; surely he had warmed up a little. “That was quite a fall you took. Something could be broken. It will only take a moment.”

But Garak refused to budge, and despite Julian’s best efforts, he could not get any blankets off the Cardassian. “That hardly matters to me now since I can’t feel anything,” Garak argued. “And I refuse to leave these blankets.”

Sighing, Julian relented and leaned back against the couch. He would have to make do with what the tricorder could pick up through Garak’s blankets. There were no broken bones at least, but any bruises would have to remain untreated until Garak was ready to leave his cocoon.

After Garak had drained the last of his tea, he set the mug aside and turned to Julian. His face was still quite pale. “Doctor, I may need your help with my hypo tonight,” he said, his voice alarmingly soft. “It’s in the bag over there.” He gestured with his head, content to keep his hands within their shelter.

“Of course,” Julian responded, retrieving the bag from the side table. He couldn’t keep the worry off his face as he prepared the hypospray. Garak usually preferred to take care of his hormone treatments himself as if he considered it a private matter he didn’t want Julian interfering in. Julian, ever the physician, had tried reminding him about it a few times before Garak rigidly assured him that he would not forget, that the consequences would be too unpleasant for him to risk forgetting. Julian had given him his space after that.

As Julian pressed the hypospray to Garak’s ridgeless neck, he let his fingers brush against his skin. It seemed hardly any warmer than before the tea. Frowning, Julian flipped open his tricorder for another scan. “I don’t understand, your body temperature has barely risen at all,” he mused, dragging a hand through his hair.

Garak simply grunted, closing his eyes against the cold that wracked his body. As far as Julian could tell through all the blankets, he had stopped shivering. But he had also grown quiet, which for Garak was a bad sign. If the tea and the blankets weren’t helping expel the chill from his body, then Julian would just have to find another source of warmth.

When Julian pressed his body against Garak and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, he was shocked by how cold he felt, even through all the blankets. Garak stiffened almost immediately and tried to pull away, but Julian held fast, tightening his arm around the freezing Cardassian.

“I’m not surprised you would take advantage of this situation,” Garak muttered. Though his voice was still weak, there was obvious discomfort in his tone.

Julian rolled his eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself, this is purely for medical reasons,” he replied, but wrapped his other arm around Garak’s middle for good measure.

Garak shifted uncomfortably in Julian’s arms. “Is this how you treat all cases of hypothermia?” he asked skeptically.

Julian’s grasp remained firm despite Garak’s fidgeting. “Only when I don’t have access to a full medical facility.”

Snorting, Garak remained unconvinced as he eyed Julian suspiciously. “I suppose next you’ll tell me it’s perfectly normal for Human friends to snuggle on the couch, that you and Chief O’Brien do it all the time.”

Julian couldn’t help but chuckle at such a ridiculous image. If he ever even tried doing that, Miles would be just as uncomfortable as Garak, if not more. At least Garak hadn’t resorted to physical violence yet. He must be very cold indeed.

“Only if Miles were in danger of hypothermia,” Julian replied, brow furrowing doggedly as Garak made another futile attempt to squirm free. “But since he’s not an ectotherm, that seems unlikely to happen very often.”

As cold as Garak’s body still felt, Julian was glad he was speaking more animatedly again. The last thing he wanted was to let Garak slip into a hypothermic coma. The Cardassian seemed to have given up his attempts at escape, but he still felt very stiff.

“Just relax,” Julian encouraged, squeezing his arm gently. “Your body is still in shock. We just need to raise it back up to a comfortable temperature and I’ve got plenty of warmth to spare.”

A silence fell between them as Garak stared stubbornly at nothing in particular, looking like a very displeased burrito. Julian swallowed his laugh at that picture. Then slowly, gradually, he felt Garak’s rigid body begin to relax. Perhaps his own body’s warmth was doing the trick. When Garak released a small sigh, Julian felt it more than he heard it as the remaining tension left the Cardassian’s body.

Then, to his great surprise, Garak tucked his head under Julian’s chin. He wasn’t _nuzzling_ his neck per se, but he definitely seemed interested in pressing up against the warmth there. Julian could feel his friend’s cool breath against his skin and shivered.

At least the Cardassian in his arms no longer felt dangerously cold. Julian should have been relieved by this development, but he found himself distracted by his pounding heartbeat and the heat that was rapidly stirring between his legs. Suddenly he was glad for the layers of blankets that separated their bodies.

Then Garak mercifully broke the silence, distracting Julian from his confusion and rising panic. “I’m really starting to tire of this skin,” he muttered. His sigh caused goose pimples to break out over Julian’s neck.

Forcing himself to ignore his body’s reaction, Julian responded, “I know. As soon as we’re finished here you can return to your scales.” He willed his features into a reassuring smile so Garak wouldn’t think anything was amiss if he happened to glance up. If he happened to glance down, well…that would be more difficult to hide. At least his scrubs were a little more forgiving than his Starfleet uniform. He just needed to keep Garak distracted. “I’m actually quite surprised by how well your body is adjusting. We’re really lucky there haven’t been any complications.”

Despite Garak’s wish for privacy, Julian had been keeping an eye on him to make sure he wasn’t exhibiting any serious side effects. But other than the minor surface injuries and a little fatigue, he seemed perfectly normal for a Cardassian in Human skin.

There were those areas, of course, which were even more dramatically changed than his face, but Garak had refused to submit to a full-body exam when Julian had asked. But from his tricorder scans, it appeared to be functioning normally, so he didn’t try pushing it. Garak might reluctantly accept help shaving or treating minor injuries – or _this_ – but there were things the Cardassian would absolutely not consent to, no matter the medical reason – namely dropping his pants. Garak might claim not to be shy about this body that wasn’t his, but he still wasn’t keen on having his parts examined. Looking back, Julian really should have utilized the opportunity in the sonic shower when Garak had been uncharacteristically blasé, but Julian had been concerned with other issues, and a doctor didn’t usually conduct an exam while equally undressed.

All right, that train of thought was _not_ helping.

If Garak noticed the bulge in Julian’s pants, he made no indication. “That’s true enough, but I’m not very fond of how weak the treatments have made me,” he complained. “Under normal circumstances that protester would not have knocked me to the ground.”

Recalling the strength with which a withdrawal-suffering Garak had subdued him, Julian easily believed that. “The hormone treatments have decreased your muscle mass, so that’s to be expected,” he explained. “I know it’ll take a while to get used to what you can and can’t do now.”

Falling silent, Julian allowed himself to rest his chin lightly atop Garak’s head. It didn’t mean anything, it was just comfortable and Garak’s hair was soft and mostly dry now. Garak must have indeed been enjoying the warmth, for he made not even an utterance of protest.

Though he was a little too warm for his comfort, Julian found the contact oddly relaxing, especially with the pitter-patter of the rain outside. He let his grip relax, confident that Garak wouldn’t try to escape now. It was kind of nice to sit here with him and take a moment to contemplate the day’s events. “I’m sorry you got punched, Garak,” he apologized, feeling a little guilty.

“As you should be, my dear,” Garak murmured, his voice almost fond. But then his tone turned reproachful – well, as reproachful as it could sound pressed against Julian’s throat. “Regardless of how he tried to provoke you, you shouldn’t have gotten involved. You should have just kept walking.”

Julian frowned. “But his resentment toward the Federation is unfounded, he just believes what Dukat says about – ”

“That may be, but we still need to maintain a low profile here,” Garak reminded, shifting his head so his words no longer tickled Julian’s neck. “Engaging with radicals in front the city constabulary is not the best way of doing so.”

Garak was right, of course, but Julian didn’t feel like admitting it. Finding it marginally easier to concentrate now, his mind returned to previous concerns. “Which reminds me, wasn’t it odd that the police were just standing a block away while the protestors openly shouted their demands?” he asked. “I thought the right to assemble was unheard of on Cardassia. And even when that man punched you, they did nothing.”

When Garak exhaled, Julian felt it against his chest. “Rejal’s administration has changed quite a few things, you’ll find,” he stated. “The city constabulary takes orders from the Council now, and thus cannot act on these sorts of matters until they are given permission. They’ve been under Order control for so long that I doubt Rejal trusts them. A very inefficient system if you ask me – just a taste of what democracy on Cardassia would be like.” Julian could feel a definite grin curling Garak’s lips. “Though perhaps they would have taken some action if the rain had not dispelled the mob.”

Julian took a moment to ponder before saying, “If Regnok is indeed Dukat’s puppet, we might see that change. I can’t imagine Dukat being a big advocate of free speech.”

Garak shifted slightly, his hair tickling Julian’s face. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he used the military to stop protests, if he does indeed gain enough influence with Rejal,” the Cardassian remarked. “Brute force seems to be his style. He demonstrates an appalling lack of finesse.”

Julian smiled at the disapproval in Garak’s tone. “While you would just plant someone among their group to take them out one by one, hm?”

“Not a bad idea, my dear,” Garak commented, sounding quite pleased. “Your cleverness is continuing to impress me.”

“I’m learning from the best,” Julian replied with a light chuckle, squeezing Garak’s shoulder.

When Garak shifted rather abruptly in his arms, Julian couldn’t help but wonder if he was experiencing the same little problem as himself. But no, better not dwell on such thoughts, that would only make matters worse…

“You know, I’m starting to think we’ve been looking for Dukat’s Changeling in the wrong place,” Julian said, returning his mind to more important matters. “All we know is that Dukat is communicating with a Changeling who’s acting on behalf of the Dominion. It doesn’t need political prominence for that. It doesn’t even need to be on Cardassia.”

Garak took a moment to consider Julian’s idea before replying. “Subspace communications are a little more difficult to conceal,” he noted. “Even secure channels are not immune to interception, and they would be much easier for the Bureau to monitor. As far as I’ve seen, Dukat has only made subspace communications to his troops... Of course it’s very possible he’s set up a symmetrically encrypted channel from his home console.”

“Have you made any progress on that end?” Julian asked.

“I’m afraid not, but I shall continue trying.”

Julian’s mind was churning rapidly now, reanalyzing every small piece of the puzzle he had gathered since arriving on Prime. “I’m starting to think that that’s where our answers lie. Once you gain access to his computer, it won’t be long until this assignment is over.” He couldn’t keep the anticipation from his voice, eager for _something_ to break this standstill. So far the only thing Dukat’s work console had revealed to them was that the government was lying about the success of the war – basically the same as learning that Cardassia was hot.

“ _If_ I gain access,” Garak corrected, his words starting to sound a little sluggish.

Julian’s lips curved into a lopsided grin. “Has there ever been a system plain, simple Garak couldn’t hack into?” he asked, his voice sounding oddly affectionate to his own ears.

“Yes, there has actually,” Garak answered. His voice was now noticeably languid. “You put far too much faith in me, my dear.”

Julian looked down at the former Order agent in his arms and realized just how much he had grown to trust his friend despite how much he still didn’t know about him. He should probably be worried about having a dangerous man so close to his throat, a man who had tortured prisoners with tetracyanate, but somehow he didn’t feel the need. “I know, I know. You’re just a tailor,” he said with a little laugh.

“That I am,” Garak murmured softly, sounding just as relaxed as Julian felt. Even his warning lacked its usual foreboding. “A tailor you really shouldn’t trust.”

As they fell into a companionable silence, Julian was surprised and a little concerned by his body’s continued interest. Now without any conversation to distract him, he couldn’t help but notice how closely their bodies were pressed together, how solid Garak felt against him. But no, this was purely for medical purposes, an improvised effort to save his friend from hypothermia. He must really be starving for contact if this was what aroused him.

Perhaps he needed to do something about that. It would probably only get worse, and when he lived in such close quarters with Garak, it was bound to get awkward. But could he even find someone willing to help relieve his tension? Somehow he doubted hookups were very prominent on Cardassia. And the last thing he wanted to do was ask Garak where to look for that sort of thing.

His thoughts returning to Garak, he noticed how steady the Cardassian’s breathing had grown. Glancing down, he was fairly certain Garak’s eyes were closed.

“Garak,” he said softly, nudging the top of Garak’s head with his chin.

Garak stirred. “Mm?”

“Are you warm now?”

Garak was clinging to his body not unlike a lizard on a rock. “Yes, very warm,” he murmured.

Reaching for his tricorder, Julian was able to run a quick scan of Garak’s body without disturbing him too much. The results were far better than his last scan. “Well your body temperature is back in an acceptable range,” he announced happily.

There was a brief moment of stillness before Garak abruptly extracted himself from Julian’s arms. He let the blankets fall from his shoulders as he rose from the couch. “Thank you, Doctor,” he said, his tone far more formal than it had been a moment ago. The mask had returned.

Julian found that he missed the warmth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After receiving some helpful feedback last week, I realized I haven't focused enough on Garak getting used to his human skin so I tried to include more of that in this chapter.
> 
> The huddling for warmth trope is quite common in Garashir fics but I love it too much not to shoehorn it in...But it does have some small purpose as you'll see in the next chapter. Gotta bring them closer together somehow, lower those barriers...
> 
> Also I should have mentioned this earlier but human Garak basically looks like Andy circa 1995. That yummy man.
> 
> Tune in next week for a Cardassian cold and a realization.


	10. Sick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garak comes down with a cold and Julian starts to acknowledge something.

When Julian awoke the next morning, it was as if something had startled him from his sleep. Sitting up, he gazed bleary-eyed at the chronometer on the wall. There was still a good half hour before he had to get up, so he flopped back onto the bed.

He had already buried his face into the pillow when a loud hacking noise disrupted the silence. It was a cough, he realized as his mind shook off its lethargy. Gazing at the ceiling, he listened for more sounds, but the apartment had fallen silent again. It wasn’t until a second cough erupted five minutes later that he forced himself out of bed, pulling a robe over his nakedness before venturing out into the living room.

There was already enough pale light streaming through the door to illuminate the room. Garak, who was sitting in a bundle of blankets on the couch, turned to Julian. The moment Julian saw the man’s face, he knew something was wrong. His skin was pale, tinted only by a bit of red around his eyes and nose.

“You look terrible, Garak,” Julian noted with concern, already opening his medkit.

Garak took a moment to hack out a wet cough before replying. “I could say the same for you,” he said, looking unimpressed as he eyed Julian’s disheveled appearance. His voice was noticeably raspy.

Despite the worries that were filling his mind, Julian found himself grinning. “Not too sick for your usual snark, I see,” he quipped.

Garak’s response was a huff that quickly led into another cough.

After running the tricorder over Garak’s body, Julian was relieved with his findings. A minor respiratory infection wasn’t fun for any humanoid, but it was far better than what he had feared. If Garak had somehow contracted the Rudellian plague, Julian wasn’t sure how he would have reacted. A strangely protective feeling swelled in his chest when he thought of it, something that seemed deeper than his usual concern for patients.

“Just a simple Cardassian head cold, nothing to worry about,” Julian assured him, flipping the tricorder closed.

Garak hastily buried his nose into a handkerchief before an earth-rending sneeze ripped out of him. “So I’m not dying?” he asked, gazing despondently over his handkerchief.

Julian tried to keep his manner professional, but there was something so unusual about Garak reduced to such a state, he couldn’t help but find a little amusement. Only because it wasn’t serious. “No,” he replied, a smile breaking his staid gaze.

Garak’s head fell back against the pillows that were propping him up. “Then kindly tell my body that,” he groaned. “I can’t recall a time I’ve felt quite so miserable.”

Julian highly doubted that, and could have named at least one time himself, but decided to let his patient sulk. “With all that your body has gone through lately, your immune system has obviously been weakened. So when your temperature dropped last night, it couldn’t fight this off,” he explained. Rummaging through his medkit, he pulled out a hypospray. “I have something here to help with the fever, but I doubt it’ll be strong enough to treat a Cardassian cold entirely.”

Garak sat up a little more to give Julian easier access to his neck. It was a little awkward leaning over Garak when Julian was wearing nothing but a robe, and he had to remind himself not to do anything overly acrobatic.

After injecting Garak, Julian drew back with his modesty still intact. “I’ll pick up an antiviral at the hospital and bring it home on my lunch,” he promised.

Garak was suddenly rising further from the couch, trying to untangle himself from the blankets. “That won’t be necessary, Doctor. I’ll see to it when we get there,” he rasped, continuing to uncover himself despite his noticeable shivering.

“Oh no you don’t!” Julian was quick to counter his efforts, laying two firm hands on Garak’s shoulders. “You’re not going anywhere. I won’t risk you contaminating everyone because you don’t want to take a sick day. You’re staying home and getting plenty of rest. Doctor’s orders.” He tried to ease Garak back onto the pillows, but was met with some resistance.

“What if I refuse?” Garak challenged. His features were trying admirably to look intimidating, but the chapped nose and bloodshot eyes weren’t helping. If anything, he looked more like a petulant child.

“I’ll tie you to the couch,” Julian threatened, hands locked onto an unmovable Garak.

A peculiar smirk livened up Garak’s pallid features. “And here I thought the rumors about your strange fetishes were exaggerated,” he remarked as casually as his congested voice could accomplish. His gaze flickered down to Julian’s chest, poorly covered by his robe’s plunging neckline.

Julian ignored the heat rising to his cheeks. “Don’t try to distract me, Garak,” he said sternly, but shifted his legs closer together. There was a little too much air going under his robe right now. “I’m serious about this.”

Garak held his gaze for another moment before relaxing, allowing Julian to push him back into the pillows. “Fine, I’ll rest.” As he tried to get comfortable, a violent cough ripped through him, forcing him back up. “If this damned cough ever lets me.”

After Julian had made himself presentable for work, he was glad to find his patient still behaving himself, lying sullenly on the couch. He rewarded this obedience with a mug of redleaf tea, noting that Garak was too miserable to even protest Julian’s generosity.

“Are you sure you don’t want to move to the bed?” Julian asked as he headed for the door. “I can’t imagine the couch is very kind on your back.”

Garak gazed over at Julian as if he had suggested something obscene. “I’d rather lie in my own filth than yours.”

“All right, sorry I asked.”

 

* * *

 

The morning was a little strange without Garak by his side. Lately they had been working more closely on Julian’s tests, causing a noticeable absence that refused to leave Julian’s mind, even when there was plenty of work to occupy him. When his lunch break finally came, he was a little anxious to check on Garak.

Antiviral in hand, Julian was leaving the medication room when he nearly bumped into Dr. Parmak.

“Ah, Dr. El Fadil,” Parmak greeted warmly. “Are you going to lunch as well? You’re free to join me if you’d like.”

Ever since Julian learned that Parmak was not his contact, he had stopped actively seeking him for anything outside of his medical duties. It had been a while since their last conversation, but now wasn’t the time. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m actually headed home right now to drop off this medication. Andy is sick.”

Parmak’s eyes darkened with concern. “Oh, nothing serious, I hope?”

“No, just a head cold,” Julian assured him. “He should be better in a day or so.”

Brightness returned to Parmak’s features. “Ah, that’s good,” he remarked. “Well, I was hoping to ask him if he plays _kotra_ – most of the people here aren’t very challenging opponents – but that will have to wait _._ Give him my best.”

The Cardassian doctor was in the process of turning when something caught his eye, making him stop.

“Are you sure that medication will help him, Doctor?” Parmak asked, eyeing the vial in Julian’s hand. “As far as I know, _kadidrol_ has only ever been used to treat Cardassian colds.”

_Damnit._ Julian resisted the urge to shove the drug behind his back like a thief caught red-handed. “It isn’t as effective as antivirals for Humans, but the active ingredients are similar enough in composition to relieve Andy’s symptoms,” he quickly clarified. “It’s the best I have since I didn’t pack any from home.” He had, actually, but he doubted the cure for the Human cold would have as much effect on a Cardassian.

It seemed a good enough explanation for Parmak, luckily. Julian was able to excuse himself from any more questions with a friendly parting and continued down the hall.

When Julian returned to the apartment, he found the shades drawn and the lights dimmed. Garak didn’t stir from where he was lying on the couch, so Julian crept quietly to his side. His face was still pale, but he looked uncharacteristically peaceful in his sleep…It was strange seeing Garak in such an unguarded state, and not only because of his radically altered appearance. Julian’s lips couldn’t help but curl upward as he watched the man’s chest rise and fall in a serene rhythm. Garak was never this relaxed when he was awake. There was always some source of tension within him, something Julian could never identify. Was it the fear of a future threat? Or memories of the past? Knowing the Cardassian, it was probably a complex tapestry of stresses unbound by temporal limitations.

Loathe to disturb this rare moment of serenity, Julian readied the hypo and carefully guided it to Garak’s neck.

He had barely reached the injection site when his patient suddenly sprang to life, hand snapping around his wrist like a carnivorous plant. Julian sucked in a startled breath.

“Are you trying to strangle me?” Garak rasped. His gaze, usually so sharp, was dampened by several layers of confused lethargy.

Julian found himself smiling at his sleep-tousled friend. “Don’t be silly, Garak,” he said, easing his hand from Garak’s grasp. “I have your medication.”

When Garak’s gaze fell to the hypo in Julian’s hand, he visibly relaxed. “Oh. Carry on then.”

After he had closed his eyes, Garak remained still for the rest of Julian’s ministrations, accepting the hypo and a tricorder scan to boot. He was showing noticeable improvement since morning and his fever had gone down. Julian was confident that the _kadidrol_ would take care of the rest of it by the end of the day as long as Garak continued to rest.

Garak seemed resigned to his fate by now, resting quietly on the couch without any more escape attempts. He wasn’t nearly as relaxed as when Julian first came in, but as Julian ate a ration bar, Garak gradually began to fall back into slumber. By the time Julian was ready to leave, his patient was asleep.

Lingering by Garak’s side, Julian straightened the blankets a little, making sure every inch of his friend was comfortably covered. It was good to see Garak return to this state of serenity. He had a feeling Garak didn’t normally get enough sleep. As he gazed down at the tranquil face, his mind flashed back to the last time he had stayed by a sleeping Garak’s side, when this face was far less peaceful (among other differences).

It was a strange, sudden impulse that carried Julian into the bedroom and out a moment later. Before he could find a reason to stop himself, he had tucked Kukalaka under the blankets with Garak and headed out the door.

 

* * *

 

Julian returned from his shift a little worn out, having spent all afternoon in the operating room with his eldest plague patient. The Pentathian farmer’s left lung had collapsed due to severe mucus blockage, which normally called for a simple procedure, but the significant bleeding necessitated immediate surgery. The Rudellian plague had really done a number on his lungs. It was a slow operation because of Julian’s limited experience with Cardassian lungs, but Telma was there to guide him through any difficulties. That was all the assistance she provided.

As Julian hung up his dust mask by the door, Garak sat up on the couch. Already Julian could see that his appearance had improved. He no longer seemed to be in a haze, greeting Julian with sharp eyes.

“You look better,” Julian observed, walking over to Garak.

“Thank you,” Garak replied, running a hand through his hair. It was rather disheveled. “I would have freshened up for you, but I recall you threatening to restrain me if I didn’t stay put.” His voice was still rather raspy but had more life to it.

Julian grinned. Now that the blankets were pooled around Garak’s waist, he could see the pajamas the Cardassian was wearing. They were long sleeved – something Julian wouldn’t dream of wearing in this heat – and were made of some dark green silk. They looked far neater than Julian’s would if he had slept all day in them.

“That was only if you left the apartment,” Julian clarified, opening his medkit. “How did you fare alone all day?”

When Garak coughed, it wasn’t nearly as harsh-sounding as that morning. “It seems I wasn’t alone,” he replied, pulling Kukalaka out from under the blankets. He eyed the stuffed bear curiously.

Warmth rose to Julian’s cheeks. With his busy afternoon, that little detail had slipped his mind. It seemed right at the time, but now he could see how silly it was. “Ah, yes, well…” he began, searching for an explanation as he ran the tricorder over Garak. “I didn’t want you to be lonely.”

Damnit, that was even sillier. Thankfully he completed his scans at that moment, giving him a topic to switch to. “Ah, good, it looks like your fever has broken. You’ll be back on your feet in no time.”

Garak gave a pleased murmur before breaking out into a series of sneezes. Once they had passed, he set Kukalaka to the side and lay back down against the pillows.

Julian didn’t really have a reason to doubt the accuracy of his equipment, but he felt the urge to double check the results just in case. Bringing a hand to Garak’s forehead, he verified that the fever had indeed dissipated. After Garak’s body had gone through both cold and heat in the last two days, it was a relief to feel it at a normal temperature again.

His hand lingered on Garak’s forehead, fingers brushing away a strand of hair. Garak uttered no protest, eyes falling closed.

His hair was longer than when Garak first had the surgery, Julian realized. As he started running his hand up higher through the soft brown hair, he idly wondered how long Garak would let it grow. Julian had begun letting his own hair grow out, despite how irritating the heat made it. Anything that helped him look less recognizable was worth a little discomfort. Perhaps he would grow a beard as well, as scratchy as that was…

Drawn out of his thoughts, Julian realized he was still stroking Garak’s hair. When he pulled his hand away, Garak’s eyes flashed open, blue orbs locking onto his. Swallowing, Julian put a little more distance between them.

Breaking their gaze, Garak shifted under the blankets, causing Kukalaka to fall from the couch. Reaching down, he picked up the bear with renewed interest. “Don’t you find it rather odd, this Human tendency to draw comfort from plush predators?”

A grin stretched across Julian’s features. “We don’t _all_ have teddy bears,” he replied, leaning against the arm of the couch. “There’s a large variety of objects that might hold meaning for people.”

Garak turned Kukalaka around in his hands with a scrutinizing eye, as if trying to uncover his secrets. “And this poorly-stitched bear is special to you?”

Julian snatched his stuffed friend from Garak’s hand. “I’ll have you know my stitches are flawless,” he insisted, holding the bear protectively. As he looked into the toy’s black marble eyes, he felt a little tug at his heart. “Kukalaka was my first patient…and he’s stuck with me through some difficult times in my childhood.”

A silence hung in the air as memories flooded Julian’s brain, memories he knew he couldn’t talk about with anyone, no matter how heavily they weighed on him at times. Luckily Garak soon broke the silence.

“You named it _Kukalaka_?” Garak asked, eyeing him flatly.

Julian stared back in amazement. Was that really what Garak was going to comment on? “I was five! Are you going to criticize a five year-old?” he retorted, trying to keep his tone lighthearted. That wasn’t a time in his life he liked to discuss…

After letting out a cough, Garak smiled leisurely. “Do you really think I’m that cruel?”

Julian met his friend’s smile with an amused grin. “You would insist that you are,” he pointed out.

Garak’s body shook with another cough before he relaxed back into the pillows. “Well at this moment I’m feeling uncharacteristically generous toward my doctor,” he murmured, a wide reptilian smile gracing his features.

Julian perched Kukalaka atop Garak’s belly as a silly sort of revenge. To his surprise, Garak let him stay there.

“I suppose I can understand,” the Cardassian mused at length, eyeing the bear thoughtfully. His voice was rather soft. “I had a _regnar_ once – only he was alive and I kept him in a drawer. He was important to me when I was a boy.”

Julian opened his mouth to comment, but the words wouldn’t form. It wasn’t as if this was the first time Garak spoke about his past, but his voice had rarely sounded so artless. It was a simple statement devoid of any embellishments or references to people Julian knew didn’t exist. It was hardly profound, but Julian really didn’t know how to react to a Garak who wasn’t lying.

Before he had the chance to speak, Garak changed the subject. He was examining Kukalaka again. “Oh dear, it looks like your friend is close to losing his head,” he observed, examining the stitching around the bear’s neck. Even from Julian’s angle he could see a little hint of white stuffing. “I can fix this once my head has cleared. Tomorrow, perhaps.”

“You brought your sewing kit?”

Garak grinned and set Kukalaka back down on his abdomen. “You never know when it might come in handy.”

A smile still curling his lips, Julian pushed himself up from the armrest and started for their makeshift kitchen. “Are you hungry? I could whip you up a delicious ration bar.”

When Julian looked back, Garak’s features were wrinkled in disgust.

“Fortunately I’m not very hungry,” the Cardassian replied. “But I wouldn’t mind some company. I’ve been rather bored all day with nothing but my thoughts to entertain me.” He shifted his legs off the couch, making enough room for Julian to sit on the end.

Not very hungry either, Julian accepted the invitation and returned to his friend. “Your superior intellect isn’t enough to keep you entertained?” he asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

As soon as Julian had plopped himself down on the couch, Garak lifted his legs back up, draping them rather presumptuously across Julian’s lap. Surprised, Julian decided it was best to ignore them for the time being.

“I do enjoy listening to the opinions of others,” Garak maintained “If only for the pleasure of refuting them.”

Julian just smiled and shook his head, knowing there was no point arguing with the man’s ego. Garak looked quite lazy and comfortable at the moment, creating a humorous image Julian wouldn’t soon forget. Drawing his gaze away, he picked up a couple padds from the end table. “I hope you don’t mind if I read some medical journals.”

“I wouldn’t dream of separating Dr. Bashir from his medical journals,” Garak said, voice rising and falling theatrically. “Only…would you mind reading aloud? It’s been so quiet all day.”

Gazing back at Garak, the man looked positively pitiful, eyes wide and lips frowning. Julian knew he was pulling that face on purpose. “All right,” he acquiesced, turning on a padd. “But I have to warn you, you probably won’t find this as interesting as I do.”

Garak didn’t seem to mind, taking care to fluff his pillow before settling back into a comfortable recline. Julian tried to ignore the feet shifting on his lap.

At first it was rather strange to read out loud to someone – it wasn’t something Julian did often. Soon, though, he was swept away by the topic and stopped caring about how he sounded. This particular paper described a plague that had struck Romulus a few centuries ago. He catalogued every detail in his mind as he read, building an internal database of resources that might later prove useful.

He had just arrived on an explanation of initial treatments when Garak interrupted him.

“There’s something I’ll never understand about you, Doctor.”

Julian waited for him to elaborate, but he seemed content to let the silence grow.

“My devilishly good looks?” Julian guessed, a playful smile on his lips.

He was expecting an eye-roll or a scoff, but Garak’s features remained contemplative. “Your motiveless compassion,” the Cardassian clarified.

Julian eyed him curiously, wondering where that topic had come from.

“I heard about the incident on Bopak III,” Garak continued. “How you tried to free the Jem’Hadar from their addiction to ketracel-white. And frankly, Doctor, you baffle me. I just can’t understand why you would want to help the Jem’Hadar when most anyone would have taken advantage of their enemy’s weak point and destroyed them.” He paused for a moment before proceeding. “And now you’re working so hard to save a people you owe nothing to, a people who have not always been on good terms with your own people. You’ve become wholly invested in something that was meant as a mere cover.”

Julian regarded Garak’s bewilderment with a smile. “Garak, I’m a doctor,” was his simple answer. What more was there to say? “I’ve devoted my life to helping as many people as I can, no matter who they are.”

Garak didn’t seem convinced, his brow furrowing skeptically. “It’s more than that,” he said, as if reaching for an elusive answer. “Perhaps it’s some sort of Federation brainwashing tactic that divests you of all self-interest…”

Julian couldn’t help but laugh at such an absurd conclusion. “Is it really so difficult to believe that people can choose to do the right thing on their own without incentives?” he asked, looking at Garak with a mixture of shock and amusement. “And it’s not exclusive to the Federation. I see this same compassion in the doctors I’ve met here, especially Parmak.”

Garak let out a cynical grunt.

“Parmak is just as devoted to the principles of the Hippocratic Oath as I am,” Julian insisted. “I can tell he wants to do more for the lower income Cardassians who can’t get on the vaccine waitlist. He’s frustrated with the whole damn waitlist system, and I’m sure he’d change it if he could.”

Garak’s eyes narrowed slightly. “With Parmak, I wouldn’t be so sure his compassion is motiveless,” he said warily. “Even if he has no ties to Starfleet, he was quite the radical in his day, and I would be surprised if the labor camp was able to entirely correct that.”

Deciding to ignore Cardassia’s ethically questionable judicial practices for the moment – that was a topic for another discussion – Julian said, “Perhaps you should stop expecting the worst of people all the time.”

A wide grin spread across Garak’s face, his eyes glinting mischievously. “If you’re trying to soften me, my dear, I’m afraid it won’t work. I’m supposed to be the one hardening you.”

It was difficult not to consider the silly adolescent interpretation of those particular words, especially when Garak was currently shifting his feet on Julian’s lap. “Oh, is that why you started this friendship?” he retorted, matching Garak’s smile. “You saw the poor, naïve Starfleet doctor and thought it would be fun to spoil his innocence, to lure him into your wicked ways?”

Garak’s smile was all exaggerated innocence as he tsked. “Really, my dear, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was simply one lonely Cardassian on a Bajoran-Federation station, looking for someone to fill my lunches with inane literary opinions.”

Garak had been using that term of endearment much more frequently, Julian realized, and without the usual “doctor” that followed. He tried not to look too closely into it, but he couldn’t deny that a little bit of warmth spread throughout him whenever Garak said “my dear.”

Of course it might have been a side effect of the medication Garak had taken. That would explain all this uncharacteristic ease between them. Perhaps its soothing effects were responsible for the slight lowering of Garak’s guard.

Whatever the reason, Julian felt strangely happy. “Oh, yes, of course. Pardon me for thinking otherwise,” he quipped, gazing at Garak from under his lashes. He held his gaze for only a second before lifting the padd to continue reading.

“And while we’re on the topic of your literary opinions, perhaps you would be open to changing your reading material? As fascinating as this medical journal is, I’ve been sleeping all day and would rather stay awake at the moment.” A very convenient yawn punctuated Garak’s point.

Julian rolled his eyes. “Ah, right, I forgot that invalids have supreme authority over their caretakers,” he said, setting his medical journal aside. “Well, Master Garak, what would you like me to read? I’m afraid I didn’t bring much light reading with me.”

“Not to worry, I have an enigma tale you might like,” Garak informed, the casual tone of his voice betrayed by a glimmer in his eyes. “I’ve read the first few chapters, but you’re welcome to start from the beginning so you get equal enjoyment out of it.”

Accepting the padd that Garak handed him, Julian examined it curiously. The book was titled “Behind the Mask.” Perhaps this enigma tale would be more palatable than the last one he had read…

He was only a few pages in when he realized his hope was sure to be futile. Already the book was exhibiting some of the tropes he most disliked in Cardassian literature. Still, he continued reading. Garak looked quite content under his blankets with Kukalaka perched on top and Julian didn’t have the heart to disrupt his quietude.

But his deference to Garak’s comfort only went so far…Half way through a maddening soliloquy, he had to stop.

“Okay, now this is just ridiculous –“

Garak blinked up at him. “I don’t recall Glinn Tekut saying that.”

“It’s just so unrealistic!” Julian complained, setting the padd down rather energetically. “You expect me to believe a man would willingly betray his wife on just the vaguest suspicious that she _might_ have criticized the State? And to speak so proudly of it? This isn’t literature, it’s propaganda.”

Garak shook his head, a longsuffering aspect settling on his features. “Again you’re projecting your own beliefs onto a completely different society,” he observed. “Cardassians place a high value on loyalty. We have no tolerance for treason, and seditious words are a clear sign of treason.” He broke into a short fit of coughs.

Julian waited for Garak to finish coughing before he made his next point. “Oh, I admire Cardassians’ capacity for extreme loyalty, I just wish you made better use of it. I don’t understand how someone can devote every facet of themselves to an institution without wanting at least _some_ personal freedom…” He paused, turning his gaze directly on Garak, and felt the urge to ask a question. “Have you never in your life felt more loyalty to someone besides the State?”

There was a pause before Garak replied. “My feelings are irrelevant, Doctor,” he stated firmly. His voice sounded softer, but that may have been caused by his cough. “I know what’s expected of me as a citizen of Cardassia and I am prepared to adhere to my duty, no matter the personal cost.”

Julian let a moment pass as he studied the man, searching his eyes for the meaning that his words concealed. “Even in exile?”

Garak’s eyes were no longer very forthcoming. “Well I’d hardly have a chance of coming home – _really_ coming home –” He gestured around the room vaguely. “– If I allowed myself to be swayed by dangerous sentiments…no matter how enticing they may be.”

It only lasted a second, but Julian saw _something_ in the Cardassian’s blue orbs that invited speculation. Then a coughing fit put an end to that.

The coughs that wracked Garak’s body sounded harsher this time, and lasted longer. When they had finally ceased, Garak flopped back against the pillows in visible fatigue. Julian felt a little prick in his heart, but perhaps that was just the motiveless compassion of a Federation doctor.

It was a sudden impulse that compelled him to lay his hand on top of Garak’s. “Perhaps you should rest your voice, as difficult as that might be for you,” he suggested with a teasing grin. “I’ll keep reading.”

Much to Julian’s surprise, Garak didn’t flinch away from the contact. His features seemed to shine with warmth as his smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Thank you, Doctor.”

Met with no opposition, Julian’s hand continued to rest on top of his friend’s. Garak looked so different like this – like he might actually _trust_ Julian in some small way. Of course Garak would probably spring into action the moment he sensed anything amiss – he hadn’t lowered his guard _that_ much. Still, this in and of itself was an accomplishment.

“You know, Garak, you can call me Julian,” he suggested. “All my friends do. I think we’re good enough friends for that.”

Garak regarded him curiously, raising an eyebrow. “You would consider me a good friend?”

Lips curling upward, Julian said, “Well I’d hardly let myself be used as a footstool by a mere acquaintance.” He patted Garak’s blanketed feet lightly.

Garak seemed to consider Julian’s request for a moment before replying. “I think it would be safer if I stuck to ‘doctor’ for the time being,” he decided. “That way there’s no chance of calling you the wrong name in public…Unless you’d rather I just call you Sid all the time.” He chuckled at what he still considered a very ridiculous name.

Julian grinned despite the strange, small disappointment that had crept into the corner of his mind. “No, doctor is fine.” Withdrawing his hand, he picked up the padd, quite eager to find out _just_ how proud Glinn Tekut was about informing on his wife.

 

* * *

 

That night Julian lay staring at the ceiling, a thousand different thoughts swimming through his head. None of them were entirely new ideas, but ones that he had pushed into the back of his mind for another time. And for whatever reason, his brain had decided that 0200 hours was the perfect time to revisit them.

There was a lot to unpack, so he decided to start with the most recent ones. Looking back on the day, he was struck by how concerned he had been over a simple cold. It really did seem to exceed his usual professional concern. But why was that? Yes, there had been a moment where he thought it might be the Rudellian plague – Garak _was_ exhibiting the initial symptoms and vaccines were known to fail. The thought had frightened him, but he had pushed it aside. Now in the darkness his mind couldn’t help but return to it.

Despite his efforts over the last few weeks, the plague was still incurable. If he didn’t change that soon, the Cardassians in quarantine would eventually die. Obviously that was not an outcome he enjoyed, but sometimes it happened. The nature of his profession had hardened him to that fact.

Why, then, did the thought of Garak suffering alongside those patients bother him so much? Yes, Garak was his friend. But the Cardassian had already been through a dire situation, and Julian hadn’t stopped to analyze his feelings then. Even when he had pulled Garak from the jaws of death, he didn’t lay awake at night wondering what would have happened if he had failed. They had been friends back then too…Nothing had really changed.

Sure, they had spent more time in each other’s company lately, but that was necessitated by this assignment. And okay, he realized that he trusted the former spy much more than was prudent…And maybe he didn’t hate it when their knees brushed or their hands touched. If his body occasionally made strange demands, that was only because it had been so long since he had been with someone…  

But that was it…wasn’t it?

“Damnit.”

He closed his eyes, but sleep would not take him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mean for a chapter that's mainly dialog to be so long, but with these two the banter can kinda run away with you.
> 
> Fun fact:: I have a reddish-brown teddy bear from the nineties that has been given several different bodies over the years thanks to dogs chewing him up, but I'm pretty sure he was originally the same bear as Kukalaka.
> 
> Also, a heads-up: Next chapter the rating will change...so yeah.
> 
> Tune in next week for a long overdue realization and a game of kotra.


	11. Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian finally admits something to himself and Parmak asks some questions.

He couldn’t see anything in the darkness, but the room seemed familiar somehow. Then, slowly, objects around him began to fade into view. He recognized them now…these were his quarters on DS9. But how…?

Vision swimming, Julian tried to recall his last memory, but he could only remember Cardassia. He had gone to bed in a little apartment in East Torr. Had he been beamed away in his sleep? Opening his mouth to call the computer, he found his throat too dry for words.

There was someone else in the room. The shadows brightened a notch further to reveal Jadzia Dax standing before him, her purple dress shimmering in the dim light. He had always been fond of that dress. It flattered her every curve.

As beautiful as she looked in the soft lamplight, this didn’t make any sense. The room seemed to shift around him like a glitchy holoprogram, and no matter how he rubbed his eyes, he couldn’t dispel the haziness that framed his vision.

“How long have I been back?” he asked the elegant apparition. “What happened to Cardassia? Did I complete my assignment?”

Jadzia only smiled coyly as she circled around him, her gait enticing, her voice soothing. “Shhh. Don’t worry about it, Julian,” she purred, stopping behind him. “Everything will be made clear in time.”

Julian found that he couldn’t move, but at the moment that didn’t seem too terrible. Her scent filled the air around him, sweet and alluring.

There was a hand on his shoulder, warm and inviting. When Jadzia spoke, it was a whisper against the shell of his ear. “I think I’ll take a shower,” she murmured. “You’re welcome to join me.”

This still didn’t make any sense, but perhaps that was all right. This is what he had always wanted, wasn’t it? Ever since he had laid eyes upon that beautiful, unattainable Trill…He could hardly say no after the years he had spent desiring this.

So he followed her. His body no longer seemed to have difficulty moving, his feet propelling him lightly forward. By the time he made it into the bathroom, the shower was already on. It was turned to the water setting, and oh how he had missed a warm, wet shower…Steam was enveloping the room, revealing only the vaguest silhouette behind the shower door.

He didn’t remember undressing, but suddenly he was naked. The room was warm, but it was an invigorating warmth, so unlike the dry, oppressive heat of Cardassia. The warmth enveloped and infused his body, coaxing him into full arousal. His hands trembled slightly as he opened the shower door and slipped inside.

When the steam parted in two great clouds, he wasn’t met with the sight he had expected. Where Jadzia had disappeared to, he couldn’t have said, but all he knew was that he was sharing a shower with Garak – Cardassian Garak, _Garak_ Garak.

Grey eye ridges overshadowed eyes that were darkened by undisguised lust, eyes that were raking hungrily over Julian’s body. Shocked and flustered, Julian immediately retreated into the corner of the shower with his back toward Garak, offering a view that he doubted was any less intriguing to the Cardassian.

He could no longer hear the fall of the water over the rushing blood in his ears. Through the roar of his panic he vaguely heard Garak speaking behind him, something about how he shouldn’t trust Telma.

“Can I trust _you_?” he heard himself ask. His voice seemed to echo in the warm, wet chamber.

Garak was right behind him now, he could feel it. The Cardassian’s body didn’t radiate warmth like Jadzia’s had, but Julian couldn’t pretend that he didn’t enjoy Garak’s proximity, especially when Julian’s body was still visibly interested. But perhaps even more surprising was that despite his embarrassment, he didn’t feel an ounce of disappointment at this change in shower partners.

Wet hands slid up his back, resting on his shoulders with a possessive squeeze. Julian could feel the light tickle of Garak’s breath against his ear.

“What do you think?” the Cardassian purred.

Julian’s body began leaning back on its own accord, drawn like a magnet to Garak’s touch. “With you I find it difficult to think,” he breathed, pressing up against the solid body behind him.

When he craned his neck back, he saw shark-like eyes peering out from a Human face. He should have been shocked that Garak had somehow returned to his Human appearance, but all he could think about was how this wasn’t enough, how he needed to be _closer_.

A moment of hesitation, then lips met like the crash of waves upon a cliff face. Julian surrendered completely into Garak’s encircling arms, twisting his neck to deepen the kiss. Garak’s tongue plunged into his mouth, sliding against his tongue in a battle for dominance. Julian retaliated ravenously, driving Garak’s tongue back so he could taste inside the Cardassian’s mouth. It was rough and heady and brilliant and still his body demanded more.

The kiss broke with a gasp – probably his own – when he felt Garak’s erection press up against his arse. Breathless, all he could do was chase that friction, rutting back against the Cardassian’s arousal with shameless abandon. It felt like a Human erection, but he hardly would have known what a Cardassian one felt like.

Garak’s hands were now roaming freely over his wet skin, putting an end to all coherent thought. Water was falling down on his face as he arched back against his friend, his head resting in the crook of Garak’s shoulder. Pleasure was rapidly overwhelming his senses, but still his body was crying for more.

Then Garak reached in front and wrapped a hand around his erection, and it was all Julian could do not to finish then and there.

Unintelligible sounds were now issuing from his mouth, dirty little moans that he should have been ashamed to produce, yet he couldn’t manage to stop himself. Garak’s mouth was again on his, muffling his whimpers with voracious kisses. It felt so good, and oh, the way Garak circled his thumb just there, like Garak knew exactly how he liked to be touched. He knew he wouldn’t last long now, the sweet pressure was building…

Then the world disappeared around him and Julian found himself sitting upright in bed, wide-eyed and breathless. It was his bedroom, he realized as he gazed around, in the apartment he shared with Garak on Prime. He was in bed and he was alone.

Flopping back against the sweat-soaked mattress, Julian groaned and stared up at the ceiling, chest rising and falling heavily. He couldn’t recall the last time he had had such a _vivid_ dream, one that felt so real…Even now he couldn’t deny its effects as he glanced down at the tenting covers.

He wrestled with his thoughts for a moment before his arousal finally won out. As he slid a hand under the thin sheets to palm his erection, he couldn’t keep the dream out of his head, images and sensations exploding behind his eyelids. He couldn’t help it, it wasn’t every day he found a fantasy that reduced him to such a desirous state.

Okay, so he could no longer deny he was attracted to Garak. So what? What was he so afraid of anyway? Perhaps Garak wasn’t his usual type, but he had known since the Academy that he was attracted to men as well, so it wasn’t entirely unprecedented. Garak was just a little older than his previous lovers…and a little more Cardassian.

He knew he couldn’t blame this on Garak’s current appearance. Looking back, he had always been intrigued by Garak, but had just chalked it up to his air of mystery and danger. Now he could admit that that wasn’t entirely it – there had always been something more to his interest in the Cardassian.

And though he hadn’t initially found Garak’s Human face very striking, it had become infused with that same mystery and charm that made Garak Garak, and that’s what made him so alluring. There was something to be said for his new face, now that Julian had grown accustomed to it. It made Garak seem more approachable, less intimidating – but he knew there was much more lurking below that harmless middle-aged demeanor. The thought made him shiver.

Yes, he had always considered Garak attractive. From the very first moment he saw Garak, the way Garak _leered_ at him like he was deciding which bit to devour first, and oh, that hand on his shoulder, so confident, so inviting, so much promise, like he could show Julian so many wonderful things, all the filthy little things he could do to him, just have his way with him, have him whining and crying and begging, please–

Dazed and out of breath, Julian lay staring at the ceiling as he slowly came down from his high. It took him a few minutes to return to reality as he touched himself lightly. Running a hand through his sweat-slick hair, he was struck by how warm and sticky his body felt, not exactly the most comfortable condition on an overheated planet. Still that did little to dampen how wonderful he felt in his afterglow.

Once he had thoroughly cleaned himself and pulled on his scrubs, Julian left the bedroom to find Garak eating breakfast at the table.

“You look well-rested,” Garak observed pleasantly.

Warmth spread across Julian’s cheeks, but he couldn’t manage to wipe the lopsided grin off his face. He wondered, a little self-consciously, if Garak could smell it on him, if he knew what he had done. Cardassians did possess superior olfactory systems. The thought should have mortified him, but he let it pass without much concern.

It took him a moment of smiling stupidly at Garak before he realized that his friend looked as composed and healthy as ever. Shaking off the remaining daze, he examined Garak with the eye of a physician. Color had returned to the man’s cheeks and he looked far less fatigued. And from what Julian had heard so far, it seemed that his cough had also improved, if not completely disappeared.

“So do you,” Julian returned, crossing the room to where Garak sat. “How are you feeling?”

Garak finished his bite of field rations before replying. “In perfect health thanks to your ministrations.” His lips curled rather impishly. “I suppose there are some benefits to having a doctor as a friend.”

“Glad I can be of some use to you,” Julian said flatly, but even his sarcasm sounded absurdly happy. Bringing a hand to Garak’s forehead, he found it in perfect condition. “No trace of a fever,” he reported.

Gazing down at his friend, Julian felt his heartrate rapidly increasing. Garak’s presence really shouldn’t have flustered him – they had been sharing an apartment for weeks now – but that damned dream was still fresh in his mind, filling him head with many delightful images. As he began to stroke Garak’s hair lightly, he was caught up in the imagined memory of Garak’s body pressed up against his, their lips colliding clumsily in their passion…And damn, those lips did look quite kissable…

The clearing of a throat shook him from his daydreams.

“If you’ll excuse me, Doctor,” Garak said, drawing away from Julian’s hand. “I have some work to catch up on before we leave.”

Julian’s eyes followed him as he took a seat in front of the console. It seemed that Garak had indeed returned to normal.

 

* * *

 

The next few days passed without incident. There were no new breakthroughs on either the medical or intelligence fronts, giving Julian’s mind plenty of time to daydream. And daydream he did, ridiculously so. For anyone else, the shower dream’s intensity would have faded over time, but his enhanced memory kept it perfectly intact, plaguing his mind at the most inopportune moments. Another thing he could thank his parents for. He had already composed a message he would never send them – _Hi Mum and Dad, thanks for engineering me with perfect recall. I keep remembering the sexy dream I had about my friend and now I can’t stop undressing him with my eyes. It’s brilliant!_

Of course with this another memory resurfaced, a memory he had been trying so hard to avoid – the sonic shower they had shared during their first week. The less rational part of his brain was now chiding him for averting his eyes, because he had been right there and he could have looked and then his daydreams could be even more vivid.

But why had his mind become so thoroughly occupied? It was just a silly crush, pure physical attraction. He wasn’t in love with Garak, not by any stretch of the imagination. There was still so much he didn’t know about the Cardassian – his past, his motives, his crimes. His trust in Garak may be growing, but that kind of relationship required an even deeper level of trust, one that he doubted was possible with the master of obfuscation. It would end in nothing but disaster.

Julian Bashir was _not_ lovesick. Oh no, he was over thirty now – much too old for that youthful folly. It was just a little attraction. That was all.

Still, it was getting difficult to hide this from Garak. He tried valiantly to wear an impassive mask when such thoughts roamed his mind, but one did not simply fool Garak. With a man so perceptive, it was entirely possible that Garak already knew about his little crush. That sort of terrified Julian.

It wasn’t as if he could just tell Garak “We’re good friends and I find you attractive, let’s add a little extra on the side.” If this had been leering-in-the-replimat Garak, or even subtly-flirting Garak, he may have found the courage. But Garak was different now. He seemed to be distancing himself from Julian, as if the little closeness they had shared when he was sick never happened. He had sewn Kukalaka’s head back on, but that was all the extra kindness he had shown. Their conversations didn’t get any deeper – if anything, there was less substance, less banter, less suggestive subtext. And certainly less ‘my dear’s. Without these cues Julian did not know how to read Garak’s intentions toward him. If he declared his interest and Garak didn’t reciprocate, they would be in for a very uncomfortable assignment together.

Still there were times when he got a strong urge to kiss Garak, if only out of curiosity…But no, he would have to be satisfied with his imagination for now. Anything more could prove disastrous. And he doubted anyone else would be able to relieve his tension now.

It was a rather slow day at the hospital when Julian found these thoughts preying on his mind for the umpteenth time. If he didn’t find something to occupy him soon, he might try to rip his hair out – and just when it had started to gain some length. It was probably best to take his lunch in the breakroom where social interaction might distract him.

When Julian walked through the doors into the breakroom, he found none other than the object of his desires. Cursing his luck, he put on his best smile and removed his sanitary mask.

Garak was sitting at a small table opposite Parmak, a _kotra_ board in between them. When his eyes landed on Julian, they lit up with affected warmth. It was the only sort of warmth Julian had been seeing from Garak lately – the friendship of Andy and Sid. They had to keep up appearances after all…

“Sid, please join us,” Garak urged, pulling a third chair to the table.

Dr. Parmak seemed deep in thought, but turned to Julian once he had moved a piece on the board. “Ah, Dr. El Fadil. It seems I’ve found a worthy _kotra_ opponent,” he said, smile as affable as ever. “Do you also play?”

Julian shook his head. “Not very well, I’m afraid,” he replied, a little sheepish. “Andy tried to teach it to me once, but I didn’t catch on very quickly.” He had enjoyed the game, actually, and had caught on much quicker than he would allow Garak to see. But it was best not to reveal how fast a learner he really was…

“His strategies were clever enough, but the problem with dear Sid is his face,” Garak remarked, smiling slyly as he examined said face. “It does little to conceal what he’s thinking.”

Julian was busy narrowing his eyes at Garak, trying to determine the implication of his subtext, when Parmak chimed in.

“Ah, that can be a handicap,” Parmak mused, smiling sympathetically. “The key to _kotra_ is being able to read your opponents’ moves and predict their strategy.”

Garak’s face was a mask of stone as he slid his piece across the board. “While simultaneously concealing your own plans,” he added.

Parmak nodded, turning his gaze back on Garak. “The real challenge comes from playing an unreadable opponent.” Examining the board, he appeared to realize the full impact of Garak’s last move, smiling a little wanly. “And you, Nurse Robinson, are an excellent _kotra_ player.”

Garak responded with a satisfied hum, his concentration returning to the game. Julian moved to the replicator to procure a small lunch, just a little bowl of _sem’hal_ stew. His replicator use wasn’t as strictly limited as it was at the apartment, but he still liked to be mindful of the resources he used.

He found himself in the mood for _gelat_ and decided to order a steaming mugful. When he walked back to the table with his tray, Garak took immediate interest.

“Is that _gelat_ I smell?” he asked, eyeing Julian’s food as he took a seat. “I don’t recall you being very fond of the drink.”

Julian wrapped a hand around the warm mug. “I might not have fully appreciated it on first taste, but it’s growing on me.” He took a long sip, taking time to consider the flavors. That bitter dirt-like taste was still there, but he could taste other subtler flavors beneath it – or so he liked to think.

Garak’s eyes remained fixed on him while he drank, as if studying a specimen. “I wouldn’t expect too much from it, my dear,” he cautioned. “It might end up disappointing your palate.”

Setting his mug down, Julian met Garak’s eyes with a little defiance. “My palate is more refined than you might think.” As he held Garak’s gaze, his heart began thumping heavily in his chest. Those piercing blue eyes, how lovely they would look glazed over with lust…

Parmak’s voice broke through Julian’s fantasy before it could get out of hand. “ _Gelat_ is lovely, but I could really go for some _kanar_ if it wasn’t the middle of the day,” he expressed, glancing between the two of them. “There’s nothing better than a game of _kotra_ and a glass of _kanar_.”

Bland geniality returned to Garak’s features as he broke their gaze, turning back to Parmak. “It seems we’re of the same mind, Doctor,” he agreed, moving his next piece.

Parmak seemed as skilled a multitasker as Garak, studying the board carefully while smiling in amusement. “I think you’re the most Cardassianized Human I’ve met, though I can’t say I’ve met many,” he remarked with a chuckle. “Next you’ll be telling me you read enigma tales in your spare time.”

Julian nearly laughed at Parmak’s perceptiveness. “It’s almost an addiction,” he said, glancing at Garak to gauge his reaction. His face remained polite but unreadable.

Parmak was still scanning the _kotra_ board as he continued musing. “Ah, enigma tales…I enjoyed them very much in my youth. I still admire them for their entertainment value, but their themes of universal guilt can get a little trite and heavy-handed.”

That wasn’t something you heard from a Cardassian every day. Finishing a sip of _gelat,_ Julian set down his mug. “I don’t know how you find them entertaining when the stories are so predictable,” he remarked. “The suspects are always guilty – where’s the mystery in that?”

They had criticized one of Garak’s favorite literary forms long enough for him not to interrupt. “That’s hardly fair, Sid,” he scolded. “The suspects’ guilt provides a compelling metaphor for society as a whole. And there is great variety among the genre, which you would know if you ever bothered to finish an enigma tale.”

Parmak seemed to be taking Garak’s side now – very diplomatic of him. “Like Shoggoth’s _Behind the Mask,”_ he helpfully supplied. “The ending truly surprised me when I first read it. If I recall correctly, the entire plot turned out to be a setup by the State to force the characters into exposing each other’s crimes –”

“Well don’t spoil the ending for him, Doctor!” Garak interrupted, eyes wide in dismay. “He had just started that one.”

“Oh dear, do forgive me.” Parmak didn’t look very penitent, smiling conspiratorially at Julian. The doctor really was perceptive.

Julian returned the smile with a little laugh. “No harm done. I probably wouldn’t have finished it anyway,” he said, glaring teasingly at Garak.

Garak shook his head ruefully. “How you disappoint me, Sid,” he sighed as he folded his hands together. Turning back to Parmak, he added, “It’s really a challenge to get him to appreciate any Cardassian literature.”

Smiling, Parmak contemplated the board for a moment before moving a piece. “You know, Nurse, I’m rather surprised you hold such traditional views on our literature when your stepmother sounds anything but,” he remarked. “You told me you grew up Kessik IV, is that correct? If I remember my star charts, isn’t that a Federation colony at the other end of the quadrant?”

There was an uneasy feeling in the pit of Julian’s stomach as he considered Parmak’s questions, but Garak’s genial demeanor remained unflappable. “My stepmother was a very unique woman,” he replied simply.

Parmak nodded contemplatively, steepling his fingers. “She would have to be, I imagine. It must have been difficult for her to be so far from her people.”

Garak studied the board leisurely. “We were quite fortunate, actually,” he explained, fingering a piece. “The colonists weren’t too hostile toward her, mainly because they didn’t feel threatened. She was the only Cardassian in the colony, and while she was very strong, she didn’t appear so.” He paused to make his next move. “Kessik IV didn’t suffer from the same unrest as the colonies in the DMZ, so people eventually became accustomed to her presence and left us alone.”

Glancing up from the board, Parmak’s gray eyes twinkled. “She must have been very brave to set off on her own like that. It’s a very risky move, quite like what you just did with your grunt.” He sounded rather impressed as examined the board, trying to understand his opponent’s strategy.

Garak’s lips curled upward as he observed his opponent. “That’s the name of the game, is it not?” Then, looking back at the board, he continued unconcernedly. “I never learned why she decided to leave the Union. She only told me that she wasn’t welcome at home. Of course, that didn’t stop her from holding Cardassia dear to her heart. She wouldn’t have introduced pieces of her culture to me otherwise.”

“Well she introduced you to some fine pieces…” Parmak murmured, surveying the board with clear amazement. Even Julian could tell that his unreadable _kotra_ mask was slipping.

There was only a moment of silence before Garak spoke again. “If you don’t enjoy enigma tales, Doctor, perhaps you would prefer the literature that has been produced more recently.” He was sliding his piece across the board when his eyes flicked up to meet Parmak’s. “It seems the sort of work a mind like yours might appreciate.”

Julian looked up from his stew, eyeing the two men warily. He was nearly certain what Garak was referring to, but could only guess how much Parmak knew…

A beat, then Parmak’s lips returned to their usual pleasant smile. “Perhaps I would, but I enjoy a diverse range of literature.” he said lightly. “I simply take the time to consider what I read in different lights.”

A wide grin stretched across Garak’s features, the most reptilian a Human face could appear. “An open mind – the essence of intellect.” Moving one final piece, he secured his victory.

Those words sounded familiar. Spoken in much the same tone as Julian had first heard them, he now detected a hint of sarcasm that had only become perceptible after years in Garak’s company. He doubted that Parmak heard it. But then again, though he was no ex-Order agent, there was something more to Parmak. It wasn’t every doctor who could match Garak’s poker face – even a certain genetically enhanced doctor couldn’t hope to.

It appeared that similar thoughts occupied Garak’s mind. When he and Julian had returned to the safety of their apartment at the end of the day, the Cardassian voiced his opinions.

“It almost felt like I was on the other end of the interrogation today.”

Julian looked up from the console (another fruitless scan of Dukat’s communication records), eyeing his friend with open concern. “Do you think he suspects anything? Does he know who you are?”

Sitting down on the couch, Garak furrowed his brow contemplatively. “It’s unlikely. Parmak is a rather sensitive man, and we didn’t part on the best of terms during our last encounter. If he knew who I was, I doubt he would be able to appear so calm.” There was a hint of self-satisfaction in his gleaming blue eyes. “Though I do have to admire the man. He can hold his own quite well in conversation with me. It’s more than I expected.”

An impish grin played at the corners of Julian’s lips. “Perhaps you’ve met your match.”

Garak’s offended scoff only served to brighten Julian’s smile. “His _kotra_ skills will have to improve before I consider granting him that,” Garak muttered, clearly unimpressed. “But as interesting as his conversation is, we should avoid excessive interaction in the future. He may want to ask more questions.” His eyes locked onto Julian’s. “Are all you doctors too curious for your own good?”

 

* * *

 

The night was merciful to Julian, offering no new dreams to torment his waking hours. But sleep still proved elusive as he found himself stirring from an untroubled rest.

The chronometer read 0149. Scanning the room, he found no obvious reason for his premature awakening. Then he noticed Kukalaka on the ground and smiled, brushing the hair from his eyes. That was probably the reason.

After reaching down to retrieve his bear, he was about to settle back in when he noticed a faint light glowing under the door. The apartment was still; only the far off hum of skimmers disrupted the silence. There was no sign of trouble – not even coughing as he half expected. Curious, he crept out of bed and wrapped a robe around his naked body.

He found Garak hunched over the console, dim light casting grotesque shadows over his face.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little early this weekend! Hope you enjoyed it, even though it probably wasn't what you were hoping for. (Patience, young grasshopper...)
> 
> In this canon divergent verse, I've decided to write it like Julian and Leeta only dated for a short while. It just makes things a little less complicated (especially for poor Kukalaka).
> 
> Tune in next week for a nighttime encounter and a seed of doubt.


	12. Doubt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian discovers something that makes him begin to question Garak's motives.

“Oh, Doctor. Did I wake you?”

Julian rubbed the sleep from his eyes and focused on the dimly illuminated Cardassian, every angle of his Human face accentuated by the console’s glow. Garak was regarding him with a casualness befitting a tailor shop as his hands hovered over the controls.

“Did something happen?” Julian asked, gaze flicking to the console. He couldn’t imagine Dukat would use his computer at Central Command HQ this late at night.

The shadows played upon Garak’s small smile. “Oh no, I’m afraid it’s nothing exciting,” he said apologetically. “I was simply looking through reports of the wreckage near the Omarion Nebula. The Founders’ old homeworld, you’ll recall. I thought perhaps there might be signs of survivors.” He turned his eyes back to the screen and added softly, “Some of those people were my friends.”

Julian peered intently at the man, but Garak’s features revealed nothing in the shadows. Somehow he doubted that Garak had many friends in the Obsidian Order. It wasn’t exactly an organization known for fostering comradery. “Friends?” he asked, taking a step closer. “Or people who might prove useful?”

A little glimmer danced in Garak’s eyes, barely perceptible in the darkness. “In my – _our_ – line of work, there’s hardly a distinction,” he said simply. “A few of them owe me favors, and they most likely know a few access codes that could help us.”

“Have you found any evidence that they’re still alive?” Julian asked.

“Not yet. But there are a few places I have yet to look.”

Julian frowned, his hands folding together with restless energy. Garak might very well be telling the truth, but he wasn’t entirely convinced. This _was_ Garak after all – just a plain simple tailor who had been exiled for killing Cardassian soldiers, or maybe freeing a group of Bajoran children, or was it tax evasion? Suffice it to say, he and truth had a complicated relationship.

The Battle of the Omarion Nebula happened a little while ago, that much Julian knew. He didn’t know any more about the incident than was listed in the official reports since Garak hadn’t been keen on divulging details. But surely Garak had already done a thorough investigation into the matter. It didn’t seem like the kind of thing that required the cloak of night to research…

 If there was more going on here, Julian wanted to know. They were supposed to be working together on this assignment; he relied on Garak’s expertise in so many ways…But Garak _had_ kept knowledge of their contact’s identity from him. It was entirely possible he was concealing something else. If only he could see what was on Garak’s screen without seeming obviously suspicious...

An old spy fiction trope popped in his mind, a tactic that was often used in his favorite holosuite programs. It wasn’t the most orthodox of methods, and who knew if it would actually work, but it was the only sort of espionage he was trained in.

He began to cross the room, adjusting his dressing gown to show just a little more of his chest. Garak paid him no mind, still stooped over the console. “Garak, you really shouldn’t hunch over like that. It’ll strain your back,” he chided lightly.

Garak glanced sidelong at Julian, straightening his posture immediately. “I don’t know how you Humans can sit upright without the support of ridges,” he muttered, bringing a hand up to the side of his neck. He let out a little hiss as he titled his head, a joint popping audibly.

“Here, let me.” As he came up behind Garak, Julian caught only a glimpse of the console screen before it flicked to a list of names – battle casualties. His gaze returned to the top of Garak’s head as he placed his hands on his shoulders and dug in, pajamas silky to the touch. “Your muscles are so tense,” he murmured, kneading a particularly knotted area. Damnit, that sounded cheesy.

Garak was uncharacteristically silent as Julian continued to massage his shoulders. It was surprising, really, that Garak didn’t make some snide comment or try to pull away. Perhaps this was actually working. Garak’s muscles were beginning to feel more pliant beneath his hands. If he could only get Garak relaxed enough, maybe he’d be a little more forthcoming…

Still, Julian couldn’t deny how lovely it was to see Garak respond to his ministrations, that soft sigh not passing unnoticed. It would be so easy to turn this into a right and proper seduction, to just let his robe fall to the floor…

When Garak interrupted his thoughts, his voice sounded markedly different, like a strange blend of husky and ominous. “My dear…” he murmured, shoulders tensing beneath Julian’s hands. “This little scheme of yours won’t work.”

Swallowing thickly, Julian tried to ignore the thumping in his chest as he schooled his voice into innocence. “Scheme? I don’t know what you’re talking about, Garak.”

A beat, then Garak responded. “You really shouldn’t play with fire unless you’re willing to face the consequences.” Craning his neck, he met Julian’s gaze over his shoulder.

Julian’s hands fell still under the weight of Garak’s stare, two black orbs shimmering in the shadows. His mouth suddenly felt dry, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “A little heat never bothered me…” he murmured, gaze wandering to Garak’s lips before quickly flicking back up.

A peculiar darkness washed over Garak’s features, offering Julian only a glimpse before he turned his face away and rose from the chair. “I’m going back to bed, Doctor. I suggest you do the same.”

He wanted to object. He wanted to press the issue, to insist that he knew what he wanted, or try to corner Garak into revealing whatever he was hiding. Instead, Julian found himself at a loss for words, unsure how to do any of that without relying on assumptions that might prove embarrassingly false. So he went back to bed to wrestle with his thoughts, grasping at any possible explanation for Garak’s behavior. Only one thing was certain – the star chart he had seen was not of the Gamma Quadrant.

 

* * *

 

Julian rose early from a restless slumber the following morning. There was no use staring at the ceiling for another fruitless hour. After pulling on his scrubs and doing all he could to tame his hair, he left the bedroom to find an empty living room.

A klaxon started blaring in his mind as he scanned the room anxiously. Where had Garak gone? To meet someone?

He felt rather silly when he heard someone rattling around in the bathroom.

Just as he was beginning to relax, his eyes landed on the console. This was the perfect opportunity, he realized. He just needed to be quick about it.

Plopping down in front of the console, he took care to use keys instead of voice commands, fingers gliding swiftly over the controls. But really, he had nothing to worry about. If Garak saw him, it wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary; he occasionally liked to monitor things in the morning. Why then was his heart pounding like a cat burglar?

A loud thump jolted him from his concentration. Ah, just footsteps from upstairs. Garak was still humming away in the bathroom.

Skimming through the computer’s most recent records, he didn’t have to look far to find the star chart he had glimpsed yesterday. Honestly he was surprised Garak hadn’t purged the history. Perhaps that meant he wasn’t covering a trail.

Narrowing his eyes at the screen, he zoomed into the star chart. Just as he had thought – this wasn’t the Gamma Quadrant. There were no labels, but it looked like the Mathen System, if his photographic memory recalled correctly.

After a quick glance at the bathroom door, he ventured to continue snooping. There was the list of the Omarion Nebula causalities, but besides that he found nothing unusual, nothing that might explain why Garak was interested in Mathenite space. Did he have a contact there? Or perhaps he had learned the location of the Changeling? No, if that were the case, why wouldn’t he just tell him? Or what if he had caught wind of a surviving Order member and traced them to this system? It was possible. Garak could have been telling the truth last night.

The lines and points on the star chart began blurring together as he sat staring at the screen. If Garak was _really_ up to something, he would know better than to leave a trace of it for Julian to find, even if he didn’t suspect Julian was onto him. His fingers ran over the keys as he pulled a memory to the forefront of his mind.

He had watched Miles try to reconstruct the deleted Cardassian medical files in the Infirmary. He didn’t understand every bit of theory behind it, but he remembered the commands Miles had executed to microscan the purge trace. With any luck, the same thing would work here. They were both Cardassian computers. He only hoped that it would take a lot less time to retrieve deleted data from a small apartment computer. He didn’t know how long he could run this subroutine in the background before Garak discovered it.

So far everything appeared to be running smoothly, so he left the console the way he had found it and went to grab a ration bar. Rummaging through the case, he found himself glancing back at the console, one ear honed on the bathroom. He was worrying for nothing, probably. But Garak was perceptive. He knew his way around a computer far better than Julian. He might very well be able to detect the subroutine the moment he sat behind the console. If there was only a way to delay that…

When Garak left the bathroom five minutes later, Julian was ready with a home-replicated Cardassian breakfast. Bowls of _taspar_ eggs and mugs of _gelat_ were spread across the table, plus a little _yamok_ sauce to spice up the eggs.

Garak’s eyes widened perceptibly as he scanned the table. “Doctor…what’s all this?”

Julian allowed a grin to spread across his features, hoping it revealed no trace of nervousness. “I had a few leftover credits, and since it’s the end of the week I thought we might have a proper breakfast.”

Garak continued to stare at the table.

“This _is_ breakfast food, isn’t it? I just assumed…”

“Yes, Doctor. _Taspar_ eggs can be eaten for breakfast.” A warm smile brightened Garak’s features, his blue eyes far friendlier than the last time Julian had seen them. “It looks delicious. How thoughtful of you.”.

Julian’s gaze lingered on Garak’s face as the Cardassian took a seat and began filling his plate. Something seemed different about his appearance. His face was freshly shaved but there was more than that…Ah, his hair looked a little shorter.

“You trimmed your hair,” Julian observed. “I thought you might try to grow it back to your usual length.”

Garak looked up from the eggs he was dousing in _yamok_ sauce. “The thought had occurred to me, but this hair would be far too unmanageable at that length. Human hair is not the most cooperative.” He brushed a rebellious strand from his forehead. “Something that you don’t seem too concerned with.”

Julian just chuckled, all too aware that his hair didn’t agree with the Cardassian climate. He found his shoulders relaxing, his smile much more natural now. It seemed like everything was back to normal between them. Whatever had happened last night – Julian still wasn’t entirely sure – it hadn’t ruined this easy repartee, at least where trivial subjects were concerned.

They continued on in leisurely conversation over what turned out to be quite a lovely breakfast. Julian found himself actually enjoying Cardassian cuisine, but anything would taste delicious next to field rations – even _gagh_. Garak was as pleasant as ever, but still maintained the barriers he had erected after his head cold.

After washing a mouthful down with _gelat_ (it really didn’t taste that different from coffee, and he found himself needing its stimulation more and more), Julian managed to casually steer the conversation into a different direction.

“Were you able to find any survivors from the Omarion Nebula?” he asked, diving his spoon down into an egg.

Garak dabbed his lips with a napkin before replying. “I have not,” he said evenly. “But I’m not entirely without hope. If anyone _did_ survive, they would be wise to stay hidden.”

Julian remained quiet, inviting Garak to elaborate.

Despite his constant security sweeps of the apartment, Garak still found the need to lower his voice. “I’ve heard word that Alon Ghemor has begun trying and executing former Order agents whose crimes he deems too great.”

Julian had to take a moment to recall who Alon Ghemor was – head of the Cardassian Intelligence Bureau, nephew of Tekeny Ghemor. Even for him it was a little difficult to keep all these Cardassian names straight.

Swallowing a mouthful of egg – ooh, too much yamok sauce on that bite – Julian eyed Garak’s placid mask. “Would he deem your crimes too great?” he ventured.

Garak’s mouth curled into a smile as he shook his head lightly. “I doubt he’s really concerned with justice, my dear Doctor. He seems focused on those who pose too much of a threat to this fragile new regime.” He chewed his eggs contemplatively, stretching his legs out under the table. “From what little I’ve been able to access of the Bureau, it appears Ghemor is content to leave me in exile. Of course I’m certain he wouldn’t balk at an execution if he knew I was here.”

It wasn’t a pleasant thought, the possibility of their cover being blown, so Julian grinned to lighten the mood. “So many enemies, Garak,” he remarked. “Is there anyone on Cardassia who doesn’t want your head?”

Garak met Julian’s teasing smile with a twinkle in his eye. “Oh, there are plenty of people who haven’t met me yet.”

Once they had finished eating, Garak checked the console for only a few minutes before they left for the hospital. As far as Julian could tell from the corner of his eye, Garak did not notice the subroutine.

 

* * *

 

Another uneventful day at Central gave Julian ample time to think about Garak in between tests and research, only this time he wasn’t entertained by fantasies.

He really shouldn’t be surprised that Garak might be involved in covert affairs. It was in the man’s nature to be secretive – that or it had been ingrained during whatever grueling Order training he had endured. Either way, everyone in the quadrant knew Garak was not to be trusted – especially Garak himself. It should have been obvious that he would continue keeping his own counsel, regardless of his collaboration on this assignment.

Well, if Garak was regularly using the console in the middle of the night, that explained why their power levels were always a little lower than Julian anticipated.

A thought occurred to him while he was eating lunch in his office, making valiant attempts at alveoli research. Could that be why Garak was still unable to access certain important areas, like Dukat’s home computer or the Detapa Council? Was he even trying, or was he focusing his efforts on other pursuits?

Shaking his head, Julian tried to push these doubts from his mind. He was probably just being paranoid, he decided after a sip of _gelat._ Garak might be looking into certain things on his own time, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still helping Julian with this assignment. Perhaps he was exploring a few leads and saw no point in telling Julian until they proved useful. After all, Garak wanted to stop the Dominion just as much as Julian and the rest of Starfleet, didn’t he?

Julian was able to stave off his worries for the remainder of his shift, but as he and Garak were walking home from their shuttle stop, his mind began churning. Glancing sidelong through his dim visor, Julian studied the masked face beside him.

There were probably many good reasons why Garak had decided to wear a dust mask today. Perhaps the dust was beginning to aggravate his lungs. A moderate breeze was whisking past them as they headed down the walkway, stirring up a cloud of dust around their feet. Or perhaps he had decided that after the encounter with protesters, it was prudent to keep his face hidden in Torr. Though if that were the case, it was strange to just start wearing his mask today…

Garak’s voice drew him out of his thoughts. “Breakfast was so refreshing this morning, perhaps I should pick up something fresh for dinner?” he suggested, moving to the side of the walkway.

Craning his neck, Julian was able to see the open air market across the bustling road. It looked as busy as ever, long lines curving around the stands. “If you don’t mind waiting…The lines look rather long.”

“It will be worth the wait,” Garak assured him. “My palate is loath to return to ration bars after those lovely _taspar_ eggs.”

Julian eyed the Cardassian’s pleasant smile, barely visible through his visor. Despite his misgivings, he couldn’t deny how perfect an opportunity this offered him. He had been wondering how he would manage to check the console with Garak hovering around him. But the coincidence was almost too perfect, and he liked to avoid consuming Cardassian resources unless necessary...Still, he couldn’t see a better alternative.

“All right,” Julian agreed. “I’ll see you at home.”

They parted with friendly smiles, Garak veering off to the right and disappearing into the throng. As Julian continued down the walkway, weaving his way through the stream of pedestrians, his mind returned to his thoughts, replaying the same few over and over.

He was rounding the corner onto their street when an odd sensation came over him, a rush of goose bumps over his skin. Pausing, he looked over his shoulder. A few children were playing in a stone garden nestled between two ramshackle houses, paying him no mind. Strange – he could have sworn he felt someone’s eyes on his back.

God, he needed to relax. True, he wasn’t exactly on Cardassia for a vacation, but there was really no reason to be so paranoid. He had done nothing to attract suspicion (well besides that incident with the protesters, but that was so minor and he hadn’t fought back…) He was just a Federation citizen volunteering at a Cardassian hospital. Nothing strange about that.

Still, his shoulders didn’t release their tension until after he was safe inside the apartment, doors whooshing closed behind him. After removing his dust mask, he wasted no time taking a seat at the console.

His eyes darted over the screen as he tried to make sense of the results in front of him. There were results at least, but not what he had been expecting. There were no charts, images, files, or audiovisual recordings. Only a string of Kardasi letters, most of which were garbled, had been retrieved. It seemed to be the record of a text transmission, but heavily corrupted. The subroutine had only been able to salvage a fragment of the original. Four words to be exact – “difficult to procure” – and a little further down in the jumble of letters – “purchase.”

Sitting back in his chair, Julian heaved a breath. His eyes scanned the words repeatedly, trying to find an innocuous explanation for it all. Double-checking the bits of data that had been retrieved, he confirmed that the transmission was sent by this console, but there was no record of the recipient. Whatever Garak’s entire message contained, two facts were possible – Garak was trying to obtain something and he didn’t want Julian to know about it.

Closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose to soothe the mounting headache. He was hardly aware of the passage of time as he sat wrestling with his thoughts, trying to decide what to do with this information.

What could Garak be trying to obtain? Weapons, maybe? Perhaps he thought they needed more than just their Starfleet-provided phasers. But if Garak was trying to procure something that would assist the assignment, why not just tell him? It must be something else, something Garak wanted no one to –

The doors whooshed open. Jolting in surprise, Julian opened his eyes to find Garak standing by the door, hooking his dust mask on the wall.

“I’m sorry for the delay, Doctor,” the Cardassian said, shaking the dust from his hair. There was a small bag hanging from his arm. “By the time I got to the front of the line there were only a few vegetables left, but I think I can manage with these. No _rhot_ root, you’ll be pleased to hear...I think I’ll make _sem’hal_ stew. How does that sound?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tune in next week for frustration, prejudice, and a casualty of the plague.


	13. Standstill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian learns about the Five and loses his first patient to the plague.

Julian cursed as a handful of crumbs scattered across the control panel, brushing them aside as he set down his _ikri_ bun. This had been his lunchbreak routine for the last few days – you would think he’d be an expert by now.

It wasn’t as if he was _avoiding_ Garak; that wasn’t exactly possible when they lived together. No, he was just making use of every spare moment for intelligence research, searching for anything that might propel the assignment forward. He was growing very weary of this standstill.

Starfleet had sent him to Cardassia Prime to find evidence of Dominion involvement, and so far all he had done was ruin an innocent man’s political career. Clearly the skills he had picked up in his holoprograms didn’t translate into actual espionage. He had taken a more proactive role in the last few days, monitoring Dukat’s console every morning and evening himself, but had yet to find any hints of incriminating evidence or the Changeling’s identity. He took note of important details like the people Dukat frequently contacted (Councillor Regnok was among them, along with a Glinn Damar), hoping that it would prove valuable in the future. Real spy work required a lot of patience, it seemed, sitting around waiting for something to happen and hoping that you would be around to catch it when it did. If Garak had only told him that, he would have had a better idea of what to expect.

Julian ran a hand over his face, wondering what else Garak wasn’t telling him.

Turning away from the screen, his mind drifted to the data fragment he had recovered a few nights ago. There hadn’t been any more incidents since, but it still weighed heavily on his mind. He had managed to scan the apartment console a few more times, utilizing moments when Garak was in the bathroom or on the balcony, but hadn’t uncovered any more deleted data. And the few times he had peered into the living room during the night, he found Garak fast asleep on the couch.

This lack of suspicious activity did little to assuage his mistrust. He found it growing increasingly difficult to rely on Garak, that little doubt always present in the back of his mind. Thus he had begun doing more of the work himself – as much as he could, anyway. He didn’t exactly know how to hack into government databases or surveillance systems. There was also the problem of his face. Garak had accompanied Nurse Telma on a medical delivery to the Council Chamber, but Julian hadn’t been able to join them. He doubted he would make it far before security realized his face didn’t match his file, and wearing a dust mask indoors was out of the question. Garak had returned with a lackluster report, observing nothing out of the ordinary, but Julian still wished he could have gone himself.

The idea of confronting Garak had crossed his mind, but what would come of that? A fractured friendship? He couldn’t imagine Garak actually _admitting_ to anything. No, he would most likely continue to lie and deny and obfuscate. And then he would continue on with whatever he was up to, taking extra precautions to make sure Julian never caught another whiff of it.

But at least it made sense why, presented with some evidence, he was beginning to question Garak’s motives. What made absolutely no sense was the part of him that still held onto his silly attraction to the enigmatic Cardassian, a desire so newly accepted. He really should have listened all those times Garak warned against trusting him…

The babbling of the newscasts was starting to irritate him. He had gotten into the habit of keeping his office’s viewscreen on while he was working, hoping to find some clue in the current events, but it was all vague state sanctioned reports, blatant propaganda, or mindless drivel. Even Cardassia had their gossip channels, shocking as that was. They were heavily regulated by the government of course, only covering the most banal of topics. Lately the show hosts liked to gush about the “inspiring young love” between Councillor Regnok and his wife – hardly much help to Julian’s investigation.

“Computer, decrease volume.”

Heaving a sigh, Julian swung his chair back around to face the console. A wall of text covered the screen, written in those jagged Kardasi glyphs that were known to induce headaches after prolonged study. He found where he had left off in his research, skimming through public Council records that were accessible through the comnet.

He was in the middle of a sip of _gelat_ , eyes partially glazed over, when a new record popped up on the screen. Examining it, he found that it had been published only a few minutes ago and contained an account of the Detapa Council’s most recent meeting. It was probably heavily censored if it was available for public consumption, but it might contain something of interest.

He had only skimmed down a few lines before Councillor Regnok’s name caught his eye.

After reading the entirety of the report, he sat back to digest the information. His first instinct was to call Garak in to discuss it, but decided against that idea. He just didn’t know if he could rely on Garak’s information anymore. It looked like he would have to turn to his second source of frustration. It was about time he tried to get more answers out of her – it didn’t look like she was planning to volunteer any in the near future.

Once he had finished the last of his _ikri_ bun, he tapped the comm on his console. “Nurse Telma, can you come to my office?”

 _“On my way,”_ Telma’s voice responded through the comm.

The Cardassian nurse walked through his door a few minutes later, removing her sanitary mask as she greeted him. “What can I help you with, Doctor?”

Julian met her cheery gaze evenly, remaining seated. “I’d like you to sanitize my office,” he said simply.

Confusion furrowed Telma’s brow for only a moment before it cleared, a small smile curling her lips. “I see.” She turned and began to stroll around the office, gaze shifting all around.

Julian’s eyes followed her as she walked, stopping occasionally to examine a shelf or a wall sconce. When she opened a panel on the side of the viewscreen, she murmured in a pleased tone before moving on.

She took only a moment more to inspect the office before pausing by the replicator, turning back to Julian. “I’m impressed, Doctor. You did a near spotless job yourself, but you did miss one small area…” Running her hand along the underside of the replicator, she produced a small, flat device and tapped a button to deactivate it. “There. Your office is all clean, Julian.”

A small bit of tension left Julian’s shoulders as Telma slipped the device into her pocket. He had done his best to locate all surveillance devices in his office, but had always suspected there might be more. It was a good thing he had acted accordingly.

He leaned back in his chair as a thought occurred to him. “You know, if the Cardassian government really wanted to conserve energy, they could shut down all these surveillance devices.”

“That’s wishful thinking, I’m afraid,” Telma responded, leaning an elbow against the replicator. “The people in power will always care more about protecting their own interests.”

Julian considered her words as he studied her face, composed and serene like the perfect operative. Though he tried his best to match her demeanor, well aware of his face’s treacherous tendencies, he felt like quite the amateur next to her and Garak. It was strange – he hardly knew anything about this woman and yet he was expected to follow her commands…if she ever deigned to give one.

“Were you born a Cardassian, or were you just altered to look like this?”

If Telma was taken aback by the question, her amused grin did not reflect it. “What a rude question, Julian,” she scolded. “I’m as much a Cardassian as your lover.”

Julian’s lips stretched into a thin, tight line. “He’s not my lover.”

“Oh dear,” the nurse murmured, running a hand down her sleek, black braid. “I hope that doesn’t make your living arrangements too uncomfortable.” She met his gaze with glimmering eyes.

“We manage,” Julian said flatly.

Chuckling lightly, Telma seated herself in a chair facing Julian and smoothed out the wrinkles in her lab coat. “So why did you call me in here? I hope it wasn’t just to insult my appearance.”

Secure in the knowledge that his office was now safe, Julian returned to his original purpose. “To find out how much you know about Regnok, actually,” he explained, keeping his voice low. As refreshing as it was to speak candidly, you never knew who might be standing in the hall. “He may have passed the blood screening but I still don’t trust him.”

“Why is that?” Telma asked, folding her hands in her lap.

“Well besides the fact that he doesn’t seem qualified for his position, he’s doing Dukat’s bidding.” Julian wheeled his chair to the side, giving Telma a view of his console screen. “He just introduced legislation that would return much of Central Command’s powers. If this passes, Dukat will be in a pretty good position to recommend joining the Dominion.”

Telma was now regarding Julian with contemplative eyes, her amusement tempered. “It’s true Dukat seeks more power, though that isn’t anything new,” she observed. “He’s not happy with the tight leash Central Command has been put on, to say the least. He calls for offensive action against the Klingons but Rejal has kept them on the defensive. She claims it’s to prevent the fleet from taking any more losses, but it’s obvious she’s hesitant to grant them more power. I don’t think she’ll give this legislation serious consideration.”

Julian leaned forward in his chair, resting elbows on his knees as he continued to speak softly. “But how powerful is Dukat’s influence over her?” he asked intently. “She appointed Regnok to the Council when he has no connections or wealth, which I’ve heard is important here. That seems significant. You must have heard the way Dukat praised him in his Veterans Commemoration Day speech.”

A smile returned to Telma’s features, looking rather impressed. “Your _friend_ has taught you well,” she remarked, rolling the word teasingly on her tongue. “Regnok is most likely Dukat’s pawn, but I wouldn’t be too worried about him snatching power just yet. Rejal may be a little more receptive to Dukat’s voice than we would like, but there are still four more members of the Five who oppose Dukat’s agenda…Are you familiar with the Five?”

“Let’s see…” Julian took a moment longer than he needed to recall the information. “They’re the dissident leaders who initiated the coup. Besides Rejal there’s Alon Ghemor, Erek Rhemet, Ithas Bamarek, and Kotan Pa’Dar. They all hold high positions on the Council now.”

Telma nodded approvingly. “I see you’ve done your research.”

“It’s all I can do right now.”

“Well Kotan Pa’Dar is especially important,” Telma continued, brushing past that remark. “Rejal respects his opinion over most others. He’s also one of the only leaders the people still trust to have their best interest in mind. He was the one who urged Rejal to request foreign aid, at least where the hospitals are concerned.”

Julian’s mind returned to his encounter with Kotan Pa’Dar a few years back, contemplating the impression he had gotten of the man’s character. He found it strange that there might actually be a decent Cardassian politician in the current establishment, but that was probably just Garak’s cynicism rubbing off on him. If he understood correctly, Pa’Dar had been instrumental in Cardassia’s withdrawal from Bajor. And if Dukat had hated Pa’Dar enough to kidnap is son in order to disgrace him, Pa’Dar must be doing something right. He just hoped Rejal shared the same opinion.

“Trust me,” the nurse went on, interrupting Julian’s thoughts. “Pa’Dar is not a man who would like to see Cardassia return to military rule – or be sold into the Dominion’s hands.”

Julian met Telma’s gaze with narrowed eyes, contemplation wrinkling his brow. Now might be his only chance to ask the question that had been plaguing him from the beginning, something so basic that no one had yet to explain. He regretted not asking it the moment he sat down with Admiral Ross, but how was he to know he’d have such a cryptic contact?

“Why _do_ you suspect Dukat is communicating with the Dominion? I’ve been told Starfleet Intelligence has good reasons, but no one has bothered to tell me them.”

The corners of Telma’s mouth curled upward, her eyes gleaming opaquely. “One hears rumors…”

Well, he had tried. “In other words, if you told me you’d have to kill me.”

Still smiling, Telma released a sigh and ran a finger over an eye ridge. “We’ve been over this before, Julian,” she said patiently. “You’re given enough information to do your job, but not enough to endanger us if you’re captured. I’m telling you all that I’m capable of.”

That sounded familiar. Really, sometimes it was hard to decide which Cardassian he was more frustrated with. Sitting back in his chair, Julian tried to conceal his irritation behind an impassive mask, but his frown was still quite prominent. “I’ll just keep watching and waiting then.”

A wide grin overtook Telma’s features. “Good boy,” she said, her patronizing tone causing Julian to bristle. Before he could respond, she rose to her feet. “Well, I’ll leave you to your research.” When she was nearly out the door, she paused and looked over her shoulder. “Oh, and be sure to take a look around your apartment this evening. You’ll find something that might prove useful.”

As the doors slid shut, Julian rested his head in a palm and wondered if he had just completed phase two of his training.

 

* * *

 

After lunch Julian started back toward the isolation ward, navigating the labyrinthine halls with practiced ease. He chose a route that would take him through the nurses station on the third floor, hoping that Garak was available to assist him in the lab. Whatever had happened between them, Garak was still a surprisingly good lab assistant. Versatility came with the trade, he supposed.

As he rounded the last corridor toward the nurses station, he spotted Garak speaking to a young nurse, his back toward Julian. The foyer beyond was teeming with people, a typical afternoon at Central Hospital. He continued forward, not thinking much of it until he heard his name on the nurse’s lips. Ears pricking up, he paused by the corner, the hallway’s dim lights offering enough of a contrast to keep him partially shadowed.

He couldn’t recall the nurse’s name, but he knew he had seen her around the hospital. Her youthful features, though partially hidden by a sanitary mask, appeared quite pretty when illuminated by bright eyes. But that glimmer began gradually fading as Garak spoke to her. Whatever she had said he had missed, but Garak’s response was more audible.

“I’m afraid you might be disappointed, my dear. Poor Dr. El Fadil suffered a tragic loss a few years back and has vowed never to love again.”

Her brightness had faded completely. “Oh, I see…the poor man.”

As she glanced over Garak’s shoulder, the nurse’s gaze suddenly fell on Julian, her face turning a coppery hue. Julian quickly took a few steps forward, uneager to earn a reputation for skulking in the shadows.

When Garak turned around and met Julian’s gaze, there was nothing but pleasant amusement in his eyes. “Ah, Sid, there you are!” he greeted rather loudly, walking toward him. “You must need my assistance in the lab, am I correct?”

Despite what he had just heard, Julian donned a casual demeanor. “You are, actually.”

When Garak had reached Julian’s corner, he stopped directly in front of him, speaking rather close to his face. “You needn’t worry about Nurse Rhan,” he said, voice soft but nonchalant. “She was hoping you might be interested in a romantic dalliance but I dissuaded her of the notion.”

By the way Garak’s eyes gleamed, it looked like the man was quite pleased with himself. Julian eyed him with clear annoyance, furrowing his brow. “What if I had wanted to make that call myself?”

Garak seemed unperturbed by Julian’s vexation, eyes glinting mischievously. “Ah but Sid, I recall you shuddering at the prospect of Cardassian women throwing themselves at you.”

Damnit, he should never have told Garak his melodramatic idea for Sid’s backstory. Narrowing his eyes, he brought his face a centimeter closer to Garak’s – closer than he would have if not protected by his mask. It wasn’t as if he had been in the mood to pursue other people, but Garak still had no right to interfere like that. He had no claim on Julian – he had made that choice clear in the last few days.

“And _you_ were so certain no Cardassian would ever be interested in me,” Julian retorted.

But of course Garak could never let him get the last word. He was on the verge of replying, looking very impressed with his own forthcoming rebuttal, when a voice caught Julian’s attention. Searching for the source, he spotted a withered old woman standing at the front desk, speaking rather harshly to Telma.

“It’s really such a shame how far the quality of this hospital has fallen. Human doctors treating Cardassian patients? Frankly I’m shocked that you people would allow it. Humans can’t possibly know what’s best for Cardassians.”

The old woman’s eyes landed on Julian and Garak, scrutinizing them with obvious disgust. Then she continued on as if they weren’t there.

“And at such a fine hospital! If they have to be on Prime then fine, let them do their bit of good, but send them to that clinic in Torr. The patients here deserve only the finest physicians in charge of their care.”

Julian could only see Telma’s side profile from where he stood, but she seemed as composed as ever. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Geleth,” she said, polite but a little disinterested as she tapped her control panel. “We’re quite grateful to the Federation doctors who are helping us. One of them is working to find a cure for the plague.”

The old woman seemed appalled by the notion, eyes widening as she muttered, “The State save us all.” She then grabbed her satchel from the counter and turned to leave, crossing the foyer as quickly as her ancient legs would take her.

“There’s one woman who’s not throwing herself at you,” Garak teased.

Rolling his eyes, Julian decided it best to ignore him and walked over to Telma. “Who was that?” he asked.

Telma met his gaze with unconcerned eyes. “Oh, you heard all that,” she observed, not very surprised. “Most of us aren’t used to your acute hearing. But I doubt that would have made much of a difference to Geleth Pa’Dar.”

“Pa’Dar…”

Mild amusement colored Telma’s features. “Yes, Kotan Pa’Dar’s mother. The _kilev_ certainly fell far from the tree with that one,” she remarked, shaking her head.

Julian’s response was cut short by the chime of his wrist comm.

_“Dr. El Fadil to the isolation ward. Medical emergency.”_

 

* * *

 

Once on the seventh floor, Julian stopped only to don a biocontainment suit before hurrying through the doors to the isolation ward, Garak close behind them.

He could hear an erratic beeping as he passed by the other patients’ sections, each curtained off to afford them some privacy. When he reached the end of the room, he found Nurse Ikara beside the Pentathian farmer’s biobed, the elderly Cardassian lying motionless upon it.

“He’s going into cardiac arrest, Doctor,” Nurse Ikara informed, worry seeping into her voice.

Grabbing a tricorder, Julian had only a moment to assess the situation before the beeping became one long, steady tone.

The nurse’s eyes were wide as she checked the screen. “No blood pressure, no pulse, no activity in the isocortex,” she reported.

After passing the tricorder quickly over the patient, Julian glanced up at Garak and said, “Andy, two ccs cordrazine.”

Garak was quick to respond, handing him the loaded hypo within seconds. Once Julian had pressed the hypo to the patient’s carotid artery, he glanced up at the screen to monitor the results.

Nurse Ikara’s voice echoed what the screen displayed. “No response.”

“Cortical stimulator,” Julian ordered.

Moving swiftly, Garak retrieved and attached the cortical stimulator to the patient’s forehead before proceeding to the console.

Julian met his eyes. “Now.”

Pressing the controls, Garak sent an electrical shock through the device. The patient jolted slightly but the flatline tone continued ringing.

“Again.”

Another shock, but the patient did not respond.

“Again,” Julian instructed.

A third shock.

Nurse Ikara looked up from where she was monitoring the patient’s vitals. “Still no response,” she said bleakly.

Julian’s gaze fell to the pallid Cardassian on the biobed before returning to the screen, the thin green line continuing to run flat. There was nothing more he could do. “All right...” he said solemnly, shoulders slumping. “We’ve lost him.”

He was moving to enter the time of death in the computer when he felt Garak’s hand on his shoulder. When he looked up, Garak gestured behind him.

Ejat, Julian’s youngest patient, was peering into the section through the break in the curtains, eyes round and lips parted. When he had been spotted, the boy took a few steps forward, standing on his tiptoes to peer at the biobed.

“Is he dead?”

Tired as he was, Julian didn’t shy away from speaking honestly, as he never thought it right to lie to children. “I’m afraid so, Ejat,” he said gently.

The room filled with silence as the boy gazed at the body. Then he let out a cough and turned back to Julian, solemnity written on his young brow. “Will I die, Dr. Effajir?” he asked, struggling over the name. His pronunciation would have been comical if not for the circumstances. “You can tell me the truth. I’m not scared.”

Julian looked down at the boy trying to appear so brave as he held his head high, bottom lip sucked under his teeth. Kneeling down to Ejat’s level, Julian placed a hand on his shoulder and gazed kindly through the visor of his biocontainment suit. “One day you will, as we all will. But I don’t think that’ll be anytime soon. He was in a very advanced stage of the plague. You’re just in the first stage and you’re doing quite well with the treatment. Just keep fighting, okay?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is much appreciated!
> 
> Tune in next week for a secret rendezvous and a midday drive.


	14. Rendezvous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian and Garak overhear a conversation and follow a skimmer.

People could say what they wanted about the living quarters on Deep Space 9 – they were oddly laid out, the beds were too hard, the color scheme was drab – but Julian would have done anything to sleep in a temperature-controlled environment again, even if he had spent much of his first year on the station complaining about his mattress.

Staring up at the geometrically patterned ceiling of his little apartment, Julian knew he couldn’t blame the heat for last night’s insomnia. No, his conscience and overactive mind were the culprits in that case. Try as he might, he could not dispel the image of the Pentathian farmer’s lifeless body from his mind.

It wasn’t as if this was the first time he had lost a patient to forces beyond his control. He had had years of experience to harden himself to that difficult aspect of his job. But that didn’t stop him from feeling slightly responsible for his patient’s death. Perhaps if he hadn’t spent so much energy on other pursuits, he might have developed a cure by now.

Garak had seemed surprised by his investment, but Julian knew he wasn’t as invested as he could have been. He worked best when he focused on one single goal, devoting all his efforts toward it until it was accomplished. That was how he had approached medical challenges in the past. But he wasn’t afforded that luxury this time. Curing the Rudellian plague wasn’t the real reason he was sent to Cardassia.

Sighing, he brushed the hair from his sweat-slick forehead and rolled over to gaze at the small, silver device on his nightstand. He should have been excited that his contact finally saw fit to equip him with some spy gear – a recording device, to be precise – but somehow it only added to his disquiet. He knew that Starfleet Intelligence considered his assignment highly important (though why they entrusted it to him was still a mystery), but he saw a more pressing need elsewhere.

The plague was continuing to rip through the Cardassian colonies in the DMZ, but that fact hadn’t become real to him until yesterday. Its spread may not have reached alarming levels on Prime, but countless people in the colonies – people like the old farmer – were counting on him to find a cure. But he couldn’t be his most effective when he was distracted by the investigation, an investigation that was still going nowhere.

Perhaps it was time to face the reality of the situation. He was a doctor – a very good doctor – but he was hardly a good intelligence operative. Surely Telma could find a way to manage without him. He wasn’t much help anyway, especially now that he couldn’t rely on Garak’s assistance. Without Garak he was just an overconfident and underprepared man playacting as a twentieth century era spy. He might as well just stick to what he knew.

If he could just put the investigation on pause for now, he could devote all his time to the plague. Then when he finally developed an antidote, Telma could decide to keep him on the assignment or send him home. Either way he would have saved many lives…But if his mission ended up failing, how many more lives would be put in jeopardy? If Starfleet couldn’t –

His thoughts were interrupted by the opening door.

“Doctor, are you awake? I’ve just managed to – Oh.”

_“Garak!”_

Heat rushed to Julian’s face as he scrambled to grab the sheets bunched by his feet, pulling them up to cover his nakedness. But they were twisted into quite a knot, refusing to be pulled any higher than his privates. He would have to settle for that. “Ever heard of knocking?” he hissed, glaring furiously at the intruder.

“I’m sorry, Doctor, I didn’t know you were…”

Garak’s face was an unusual shade of red, pupils wide and eyebrows raised. Was it Julian’s imagination, or did he look just as uncomfortable as Julian felt? It was strange considering how nonchalant he was the last time he encountered a naked Julian.

Garak’s gaze flew from him like a hand from a stove, focusing somewhere on the wall behind him. “Well I can see you want your privacy.” Before Julian could say a word, he turned and left.

Trying to brush off the embarrassment, Julian dragged himself out bed and started to prepare for the day. Really, it was ridiculous that he should be so embarrassed, even if the intrusion had been startling. Just a few days ago he had been fantasizing about seducing Garak…but a lot had changed since then.

By the time he was finished shaving his stubble at the small corner sink, Julian’s face had returned to its normal complexion. But there was little he could do about the heat that still plagued him.

When he went out into the living room, he found Garak at the console. It seemed like Garak had also regained his composure, glancing up at him with pleasant indifference before returning his attention to the screen.

“Well this is interesting…” the Cardassian mused, fingers gliding over the controls. “Last night a former Obsidian Order facility burnt down. The city constabulary suspects arson.”

Julian eyed his friend with a bemused expression, approaching the console. “Not very surprising considering how people feel about the Order,” he said, recalling the sentiments expressed in Torr’s broadsheets. “But did you really need to invade my privacy for that?”

Garak turned his head slightly and regarded him from the corner of his eye, brow furrowing. “Well I hardly would have come in if I’d known you were stimulating yourself!”

Heat returned to Julian’s cheeks, only this time with much more irritation. “I was not ‘stimulating’ myself!” he insisted, gesturing emphatically. Really, how could Garak come to that conclusion? He hadn’t been in any state of arousal when Garak intruded, and surely the Cardassian had been in that body long enough to know how Human genitals worked. Sighing, he added, “I can’t wear anything to bed in this godforsaken heat.”

Garak seemed uninterested in continuing the topic, shrugging before changing course. “Well this should lift your spirits,” he said cheerfully as he turned back to the console. “I’ve been able to access the personal comm of one of Dukat’s associates – Glinn Corat Damar. Both Dukat’s and Regnok’s comms are unfortunately too secure, but this Damar is apparently less cautious.”

Intrigued, Julian took a step closer, peering at the console over Garak’s shoulder. Neither paid much mind to their proximity as they began sifting through information, Julian managing to keep up as Garak scrolled quickly. If personal comms revealed anything about their owners, then this Damar was a rather nondescript individual. There were hardly any personal files mixed in with generic low-level Central Command information, data they had already acquired from Garak’s other endeavors. It wasn’t until they started combing through his personal messages that something caught their attention.

There was a message from Dukat that was timestamped with yesterday’s date, only two short phrases: _Tomorrow at lunch. Meet at the Veterans’ Bridge._

“A meeting for lunch…” Garak murmured. “Strange that it’s not at a restaurant.”

 

* * *

 

He hated to do this, especially after his firm resolution that morning. He should be spending his lunch nose-deep in plague research, but here he was, heading out the hospital doors with Garak. Yet even in his frustration, Julian couldn’t help the little thrill that coursed through his veins. This could be their first major breakthrough; they had to do this. Who knew when an opportunity like this would come again?

They had been able to access a few of Dukat and Damar’s conversations through Dukat’s console, but they had always been too vague to be of much use. Still, the frequency of their communication alone had Julian convinced that Damar was involved in Dukat’s Dominion plans. Perhaps they would be more forthcoming in their face-to-face conversations…

Telma had been quite accommodating when Julian explained the situation, offering to find someone to handle his duties if he needed to take a longer lunch break. She even provided cover for them, issuing orders to deliver medication to a bedridden patient in the Paldar sector. With this they were able to borrow a skimmer from Parmak without any questions.

It had been Garak’s idea to request use of a skimmer, and for once Julian couldn’t argue. He would feel much safer behind the dark windows of a skimmer as they made their way to Dukat’s rendezvous point.

As they walked out into the blinding sun, Julian slipped a hand into his pocket to make sure the recording device was still there. Confirming its presence, he looked back up to find Garak opening the passenger door of a shiny silver skimmer, ushering him inside with an overly chivalrous gesture.

Once they were both inside, Julian placed their dust masks in the back before resting back in his seat. The temperature controls inside the skimmer made the air slightly cooler, a welcome relief from the burning sun. He would have preferred it a little cooler, but left things as they were in deference to Garak. After glancing around the vehicle, he opened his mouth to speak but was silenced by a finger against his lips.

The Cardassian eyed him wordlessly, his pleasant smile revealing nothing, before turning to the control console. Only after he had punched in some sort of code did he remove his finger.

Julian fixed an irritated glower on his friend. “I was just going to ask if the skimmer was clean. I’m not stupid.”

Garak returned his scowl with a placating grin. “I would never suggest it, dear Doctor,” he soothed. “But you’re still quite new to this. Better not take any chances.”

As they started off down the street, Julian found himself a little impressed by Garak’s driving. It must have been many years since the Cardassian last drove a skimmer, yet he maneuvered it with ease down narrow roads and tight corners.

They made only the lightest conversation as they drove, Garak commenting on the moderate traffic that was typical on the ninth day of the week, the day most bureaucrats had off. That was fine with Julian; he was still a little annoyed with Garak and desired nothing more substantive to discuss. He was content to gaze out the window as he gnawed on a ration bar, watching the unexplored streets of Tarlak go by. Cardassian architecture had never been his favorite, but he couldn’t deny the majesty of the buildings and monuments in this district.

As a grand, stately building came into view – the Assembly Hall, Julian recalled from the ‘casts – he noticed a large group of people gathered on its front steps. Garak seemed to notice too, slowing the skimmer slightly as they approached. There were a few police skimmers parked out front, black and silver gleaming in the sun.

Now that they were closer, it didn’t take much effort to spot the reason for the crowd’s assembly. Upon a pillar in handwritten red glyphs was a message: “BRING TEKENY HOME.”

“Graffiti in Cardassia City,” Garak tutted, shaking his head. “This place really has changed.”

Julian’s eyes were fixed outside the window, watching the confused and murmuring crowd. “The people are finally making their voices heard,” he remarked. He could see a number of reporters amidst the crowd, their holocameras all pointing at the pillar. “In whatever way they can.”

Garak cast another glance at the crowd before looking back at the road, returning the skimmer to its previous speed. “Yes, well it appears there are some who are growing _quite_ frustrated with Rejal’s silence,” he observed. “She would be foolish to keep ignoring this…Doctor, please don’t get crumbs on the seat.”

Looking up from his lunch, Julian was met with a disapproving gaze. Really, Garak could be so persnickety sometimes. Rolling his eyes, he carefully brushed the crumbs off his lap and into his hand, depositing them into his pocket for lack of better disposal.

They remained silent for the rest of the ride as Julian continued his careful observation, trying to memorize as much of the city as he saw. He might not always have Garak around to help him navigate, and the less he had to rely on Garak, the better.

After they had turned off the main throughway, two lines of grey statues rose up to greet them on their left, separated from the road by a stretch of green. The only lawns Julian had seen on Prime so far had been in this sector. In Torr there wasn’t a hint of green to be seen.

The statues adorned a bridge, Julian realized as they drew closer, arching steeply over a low river. Veterans’ Bridge – he could see why they called it that. Every statue was clothed in the stone uniform of legates, decorated with stone insignias that denoted honor. They might have inspired awe in some, but Julian found them rather grim.

As Garak parked the skimmer on the side of the road, strategically placed in the blind spot of the nearest viewscreen, Julian squinted out the window in search of their targets. There was a number of people milling around the park, a few children running on the grass as their parents watched from benches nearby. But there were also two darkly-clad figures on the steps at the base of the bridge.

“There they are,” Julian said, pointing them out. “By the bridge.”

But Garak had already been watching them, it seemed, eyes fixed in their direction. They sat silently for a moment until the figures began to move. “It seems they’re heading down to the river,” he observed. “And as lovely as the weather is, I doubt they’re going for a swim.”

Dukat and Damar were following a set of stairs downward, disappearing behind the raised river bank. Julian’s hand was on the door, moving to exit the vehicle, when Garak spoke.

“Wait. I have a better idea,” he said, producing a device from his pocket. It had the angular design of Cardassian technology, but it looked unfamiliar to Julian. Sitting back in his seat, he watched as the Cardassian began rapidly tapping a series of codes into the device.

“What is that?” he asked when it became clear Garak was in no rush to explain his idea.

Garak continued with whatever he was doing as he explained, “It was a personal comm, but I’ve made some modifications.”

Julian held back any further questions as he continued to watch the not-so-former spy fiddle with the handheld device. His fingers were running rapidly over the small controls, but from the way his face was scrunched up in concentration, it didn’t seem like he was making much progress.

Julian was gazing anxiously out at the foot of the bridge when a staticky hum broke the silence. Turning back to Garak, he saw the comm’s screen flicker from a string of numbers to an image. No, not an image – a surveillance video. Leaning closer, he saw the shadowed silhouettes of two men.

“That’s incredible,” Julian marveled, eyes fixed on the device. He had no idea personal comms could be used in such a way – even Miles would be impressed. “You hacked into a surveillance device with this.”

Garak seemed quite pleased by the compliment, his lips stretching into a small, proud smile. “Reactivated it, actually,” he clarified. “Dukat is most likely aware of its location under the bridge, but is expecting it to be off.”  He pressed a few more buttons on the comm until a voice came through the device. It was a little difficult to hear with the river rippling in the background, but it sounded distinctly unfamiliar.

“I don’t understand why we have to go about it this way. It seems needlessly complex. And why do you need me?”

Julian leaned in toward the little screen, paying no mind to how closely he and Garak were pressed together in the front seat of the skimmer. Though the surveillance camera was at some distance from the men, Julian was pretty sure that Damar was the one pacing. The other figure, standing perfectly still, bore a distinctively long neck that could belong to none other than Dukat.

When Dukat’s voice came over the comm, it sounded like his patience was wearing thin. “You know why, Damar. I’m the last person he would be open to talking with.” He paused, seeming to contemplate as he watched Damar move back and forth. “If you don’t think you’re up to the task then say so. I can find someone more cooperative.”

Damar stopped in his tracks, turning to face Dukat fully. “I’ve told you before, sir, that I’m much better suited for battle. Send me out into the field and I’ll be able to serve Cardassia to my utmost capacity.”

“All in good time,” Dukat assured him. “Cardassia needs you here for now. Someone with your loyalty is getting harder to come by…I was thinking you might make a fine gul, presuming your loyalty remains unwavering.”

There was a pause. Julian peered at the screen more closely, unable to distinguish facial expressions through the dark and grainy quality.

When Damar answered, his voice was softer. “I’ll do as you command.”

“Wonderful,” Dukat said, his tone suggesting an arrogant grin. Damar met his hand in a traditional palm press before they both turned in opposite directions. When they had walked a few steps, Dukat paused. Without looking over his shoulder, he added, “Remember – you’ll only have fifteen metrics.”

“I won’t forget.”

Once the two dark figures had disappeared off the screen, Julian raised his gaze to Garak. Realizing just how close those blue eyes were to his face, he drew back until there was a little more space between them, ignoring the fluttering in his chest. “Only fifteen metrics?” he asked. Metrics were equivalent to roughly 1.74 Standard minutes, if he remembered correctly. “For what?”

Trying to puzzle out what they had just heard, he glanced out the window and spotted Damar ascending the stairs from the river bank. Dukat must have taken a different route.

“And who’s the ‘him’ Dukat referred to?” Julian added as he continued to mull over the conversation. “The Changeling, perhaps?”

Garak remained perfectly still as Damar grew nearer, watching the figure warily from the corner of his eye. Julian found himself holding his breath, hoping that the skimmer’s windows were dark enough to conceal them.

Only after Damar had passed by their skimmer did Garak respond. “I really can’t say, but I’ve learned that no one speaks in such vague language unless they’re trying to conceal something.”

Both Garak and Julian turned forward in their seats as they followed Damar’s path with their eyes. The glinn continued up the walkway, passing a few parked skimmers before he stopped beside a copper-colored one and boarded the vehicle.

“What could they be up to?” Julian mused aloud, a thousand different scenarios running through his brain.

There was a twinkle of excitement in Garak’s eyes as he turned to Julian. “Care to find out?”

With that they were off, slipping back into traffic a few skimmers behind Damar.

The pursuit took them back through Tarlak, retracing much of their original route, even passing the Assembly Hall again. They were moving much faster now, but the glimpse Julian caught told him that the graffiti had already been cleaned off.

By the way Garak maneuvered the vehicle, Julian could tell he was an old hand at this, taking care not to respond too quickly to Damar’s actions and always maintaining a considerable buffer between them. Still there were times when it seemed like Garak wasn’t going to make the next turn, prompting Julian to exclaim “he’s turning right!” or “he’s in the far lane now!”

“Thank you, Doctor. Since I’m clearly driving with my eyes closed, your constant directions are invaluable.”

Frowning, Julian tried to keep his directions to a minimum from then on.

Soon the towering, brutalist buildings gave way to elegant shopping centers and restaurants, packed less densely than the heart of Tarlak. Then they turned off onto a narrower road and found themselves in a residential neighborhood, the houses more spacious and attractive than the tenements of Torr. Julian tried to take note of the unfamiliar streets and landmarks, but it was difficult to sightsee when they had to keep track of Damar’s skimmer.

Julian didn’t even notice how rapidly his heart was pounding until they found their speed reduced to nearly a halt, stuck behind a long line of slowly moving vehicles. Craning his neck to see beyond the traffic, Julian spotted the copper glint of Damar’s skimmer a few blocks ahead, turning down a side street.

“He’s turning up ahead!” Julian informed anxiously. “We’re losing him!”

Garak kept his reply to a short grunt before veering to the side of the road, barely passing a few skimmers before taking a sharp turn down a narrow street. Though the street was dark, shadowed by tall buildings and the occasional _ithian_ tree, Garak drove like he was familiar with it, accelerating as much as he dared on the empty street.

After a few sharp turns that had Julian bouncing against the door, they were back on a wider road, just a few vehicles behind the copper-colored skimmer of Glinn Damar. Though slightly bruised, Julian couldn’t help but smile at Garak, a little impressed.

Their pursuit was less eventful after that, Garak easily keeping up with Damar’s skimmer. Julian’s focus remained fixed on their target’s taillights, determined not to lose track again, until they passed under a wide archway. His lips parted slightly as he looked up, admiring the grandiosity of the intricately sculpted arc.

Once they had passed under it, the road began sloping upwards, following verdant, manicured hills that were dotted with stately and rather extravagant mansions.

“It’s beautiful,” Julian murmured, absorbing the view.

Amusement glinted in Garak’s eyes as he observed Julian’s reaction. “Welcome to Coranum,” he said, gesturing a bit theatrically.

Coranum…Julian had heard that name mentioned before, but only now did he realize the district’s beauty. With its lush vegetation and colorful gardens, it looked quite out of place on the desert world of Cardassia Prime. Only the wealthiest and oldest families could afford to live in this sector, he recalled hearing. Many of its residents went to Central Hospital for their healthcare, though Julian didn’t have regular contact with them. Their names had undoubtedly been chosen from the vaccine waitlist months ago, meaning no one who lived in Coranum was likely to contract the plague.

Julian’s thoughts were interrupted by a glimpse of flashing lights. There, in the rear-view display, was the unmistakable black and silver striping of a police skimmer. His heart nearly jumped into his throat.

“It appears they’ve rolled out the welcome wagon for us,” Garak commented. Though his features remained impassive, there was an edge to his voice. He hadn’t been expecting this either.

The skimmer was clearly flagging them down, remaining unwaveringly on their tail. Presented with no better options, Garak pulled their vehicle to the side of the road, exchanging a glance with Julian as they waited for an officer to approach them. Though the look in his eyes seemed reassuring, Julian’s apprehension was hardly assuaged.

Julian looked up just in time to see Damar’s skimmer disappear beyond the bend.

When a shadow appeared by the driver side window, Garak pushed a button to roll down the window. “Good day, constable,” he greeted amiably, as if he hadn’t a care in the world. “Isn’t this lovely weather we’re having?”

The officer, stone-faced and proper, didn’t seem to share Garak’s enthusiasm. Julian tried to conceal his anxiety as the Cardassian’s scrutinizing gaze fell on him, tilting his head just low enough to shadow his features without seeming suspicious.

“You’re Humans,” the constable observed, a hint of surprise in his voice. It was if he hadn’t expected perfect Kardasi to come from a Human-looking face.

Garak chuckled pleasantly. “Guilty as charged,” he admitted, raising his hands. “There isn’t a problem, is there?” His tone was all innocence, much like the voice he used when denying Odo’s accusations.

The officer’s mouth was pulled into a thin line, his eyes showing as much emotion as the stone legates on Veterans’ Bridge. “Federation citizens aren’t allowed in this sector without an invitation or a Cardassian escort,” he informed.

Leave it to the Cardassian elite to invent such a xenophobic law. Julian folded his clammy hands together, trying valiantly to maintain an impassive mask as he watched the back of Garak’s head. He hoped that plain, simple tailor knew what he was doing…

“Oh, I see,” Garak responded thoughtfully. “But we were given instructions by the leading physician at Central Hospital, Dr. Kelas Parmak himself, to make a medical delivery here.” He held up the parcel they were to deliver.

The constable eyed the box suspiciously. “I’d like to see that.”

Garak handed over the package without protest, sending another glance in Julian’s direction as the constable inspected the parcel. Julian only hoped that Garak couldn’t detect any signs of anxiety on his infamously readable forehead.

“This says the patient lives in Paldar.”

Garak turned back to the officer, his voice colored with confusion. “Oh, is this not the Paldar sector?” he asked, making a show of looking around him. “I could have sworn I turned right at the…Sid, did you see the sign back there?”

_“The massive stone arch that said ‘Welcome to Coranum?’”_ Julian would have replied if the situation had been less precarious. “I don’t know, I think –” was all he could come up with before the officer spoke. 

“If you turn around and make a left at the next block, you’ll be back in Paldar,” the Cardassian explained, impatience slipping into his voice. It was probably not the first time he had to deal with a lost Federation citizen. He handed the parcel back to Garak. “Be more aware of your surroundings in the future.”

With that warning, the officer returned to his vehicle and waited. Only after Garak had turned the skimmer around and headed back through the arch did Julian see the police skimmer move along.

Silence settled inside the skimmer as Garak continued down the streets of Paldar, making no indication of what he planned next. Once Julian’s heartrate had resumed a normal tempo, he spoke up.

“Is there another way in?” he asked, gazing around the maze-like streets as if a route would present itself.

The skimmer made a leisurely left turn, quite a change to how they had been driving a few minutes ago. “Yes, but I imagine there are officers near all points of entry,” Garak replied.

Julian furrowed his brow as he considered their options. “What if we go on foot?” he suggested.

Garak seemed to mull it over for a moment before shaking his head. “There are a few routes that I know of, but I’m afraid it will be impossible to go unnoticed in broad daylight. Coranum lacks the convenient dark alleys of the rest of the city.”

The road began to snake around buildings like a river, jostling them slightly inside the skimmer. “If we wear our masks they won’t know we’re Humans,” Julian pointed out, straightening in his seat. “Well, that I’m a Human.” Really, it was silly to make that correction at this point, but who knew what might offend Garak.

Garak didn’t seem to care, continuing on the topic at hand. “Unless someone gets suspicious and stops us. The residents of Coranum don’t take kindly to strangers roaming around their streets. And that’s not even mentioning the heavy surveillance.”

Julian heaved a sigh, running out of options. “So what? We just give up pursuit?”

“It seems like the only reasonable course of action, yes,” Garak said simply. Glancing sidelong at Julian, he seemed to notice his friend’s disappointment and decided to elaborate. “I wouldn’t risk our cover over this, especially when we’ve lost Damar’s skimmer and there’s no guarantee we’ll be able to relocate it.”

Julian’s gaze fell back to the passing scenery as he reluctantly conceded to Garak’s reasoning. As much as it made sense, he didn’t like the idea of quitting. He had waited so long for a taste of the action, but now that something seemed to be happening, there was no way to get close enough to see what it was. They could try to return with Telma as their Cardassian escort, but that would take too long, giving Damar plenty of time to conduct his business. There were always the surveillance systems, but how long had he and Garak been reviewing surveillance tapes that revealed nothing?

Garak’s voice broke through his pondering silence. “I know you’re disappointed, Doctor, but I wouldn’t worry too much. It may have led to nothing anyway. Such is the nature of our profession. Another opportunity like this will present itself if we keep our eyes open.” He waited until they had stopped behind traffic to continue. “I’ll try to access Coranum surveillance after our shifts tonight. It might show us where Damar was headed.”

“All right. I suppose that’s all we can do now.”

Garak’s words would have consoled Julian more if he could be certain of Garak’s dedication to the assignment, but they still helped a little. At least Garak wasn’t chiding him for his reckless and naïve ideas. They passed the next ten minutes in companionable silence before they arrived at the bedridden patient’s home, a sizable cottage in the heart of the sector.

The elderly Cardassian was quite polite to their faces, thanking them profusely for delivering his medication and complimenting their Kardasi (well, Garak’s Kardasi anyway). But when they were on their way out, Julian heard him mention to his housekeeper how strange it was to have “weaknecks” on Cardassia. He should have expected as much. What he overheard at the hospital was ample proof that Cardassians would not abandon their xenophobic tendencies overnight.

They started their drive back to the hospital in the same companionable silence, interspersed with the occasional observation about the scenery. It wasn’t until Garak started slowing the skimmer that the conversation took an interesting turn.

“All these years and it hasn’t changed.”

There was an odd wistful quality to Garak’s voice. Julian looked up to see him gazing out at an elegant stone house, nestled behind a line of budding trees. There was an archway out front that led into a lush garden.

“Is this where you grew up?” Julian ventured a guess. To his surprise, Garak’s answer was simple.

“Yes,” the Cardassian said, following the house with his eyes as the skimmer meandered by. “Coranum was a little too ostentatious for Enabran Tain. He preferred the more tasteful comfort of Paldar.”

Julian looked out the window skeptically. True, the house was less ornate than the mansions he had glimpsed in Coranum, but it still looked quite lavish to Julian’s eyes. It was strange to think that this house once belonged to one of the most dangerous men in the Union. As beautiful as it was, there seemed to be the hint of a shadow still looming over it.

“I didn’t know you grew up in Tain’s household,” he commented, reviewing what little he knew about Garak’s past. There wasn’t much to go off of. “Did he take you in as an apprentice?”

If Garak was bothered by Julian’s fishing, he didn’t let it show. He actually seemed quite amused by the notion. “Oh no, he didn’t take interest in me until much later,” the Cardassian explained. “For many of my years under his roof I was just the son of his servants, a boy of the service grades.”

Julian propped an elbow against the window, eyeing Garak curiously. “Then what made him take interest in you?”

Garak shrugged. “I really couldn’t say,” he answered indifferently. “Perhaps it was the way I grew Edosian orchids. They’re quite tricky to cultivate properly, you know.”

A grin tugged at the corners of Julian’s mouth. “Oh yes, I’m sure the Order was in dire need of more gardeners,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“You never know what skills will prove useful,” Garak remarked, raising an eyebrow. “The most unlikely people can make good operatives – even doctors.”

Julian imagined there were quite a few ways that a doctor’s knowledge would come in handy to the Obsidian Order. Shuddering, he could only be grateful that he hadn’t been recruited by _that_ intelligence agency.

But as much as he knew he couldn’t trust Garak, he found himself inexplicably enjoying this conversation. He didn’t know how much of Garak’s story he should believe – there were always kernels of truth hidden in there somewhere – it was still a wonder that Garak was even discussing his past, especially after the distance that had grown between them. Julian had missed this. He kept his eyes fixed on the house, and despite all that it might represent, he was happy to have seen this part of Garak’s history.

As they passed the last of the old Tain residence, Julian tried to imagine a young Garak playing out in the garden, leaping from rock to rock. It wasn’t the easiest image to conjure up.

“You know, Garak, I can’t quite picture you as a child.”

Garak’s chuckle sent an odd warmth through Julian’s body. “As strange as it sounds, I was once as wide eyed and innocent as you…” the Cardassian said. “Well, almost.”

Julian eyed the man incredulously. “Impossible. I’ll need to see some evidence. A holopic will do.”

When Garak turned to Julian, there was a smirk playing at his lips. “Oh, I’m sure some exist, but they’re nowhere you will find.”

 

* * *

 

Lifting a mug of _gelat_ from the replicator, Julian knew this wouldn’t be his last cup today. After spending most of the night standing by uselessly while Garak tried to access Coranum surveillance, he was in for a long day.

When Garak came up beside him, his gaze fell to Julian’s mug. “Oh dear,” he murmured. “It seems I’ve gotten you addicted.”

“I’m not addicted,” Julian insisted with a laugh. “Redleaf tea just hasn’t been doing it for me lately.”

Garak’s eyes grew in exaggerated shock, but before he could get out a clever retort, Julian’s attention was drawn away by the viewscreen on the wall.

Everyone in the breakroom seemed to be watching the screen at that moment. A grim-faced newscaster had just appeared, looking far more solemn than was typical on the morning ‘casts. When the Cardassian spoke, Julian understood why.

_“It is with a heavy heart that we must report the passing of Councillor Kotan Pa’Dar.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the people who left feedback on my last chapter. It really made my week! 
> 
> Also, I'm sorry I wasn't able to get this out a little sooner. I got sick this week and it was a barrel of laughs.
> 
> Tune in next week for a suspicion of foul play.


	15. Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian and Garak investigate Pa'Dar's death.

 

“Come in.”

The doors parted to reveal Dr. Parmak at his desk, viewscreen flicking off as he looked up at his guests. It was lucky that they caught him in here – this conversation was better to have behind closed doors. Julian entered the office with Garak at his side, sliding the sanitary masks from their faces.

Julian’s features must have betrayed some of his disquietude; one look and Parmak seemed to know what was on his mind. “I take it you’ve heard the news,” the Cardassian doctor said.

Julian nodded solemnly, casting his gaze around the office. It somehow seemed more disorderly than usual, countless padds and data rods scattered about. “On the ‘casts just now. When did it happen?” he asked, taking a seat in front of Parmak’s desk. Garak claimed the chair beside him, content to remain politely silent.

“Sometime yesterday evening, I believe,” Parmak replied, setting a padd aside. “I received the call around tenth bell.”

Now that he was closer, Julian could see dark shadows hanging under Parmak’s eyes. But as tired as the doctor appeared, Julian needed some answers before he could leave him in peace. “They said it was the Rudellian plague, but I don’t understand how,” he said, eyebrows knitting together. The newscast had been unfortunately light on details, covering only the basics of Pa’Dar’s passing before moving on to speak of his achievements. “Didn’t Pa’Dar get the vaccine?” He tried to recall what he had seen of the waitlist, but knew there was no way a man of Pa’Dar’s status would be overlooked.

“He did, yes,” Parmak confirmed with a dip of the head. “But as you know, it’s always possible for a vaccine to fail.”

“Then why didn’t he seek treatment?” Julian asked, mind whirring as more questions arose. With all the symptoms it produced, the Rudellian plague was hardly a silent killer. “He must have known he was sick.”

Parmak tapped his fingers lightly on the desk as he considered the question. “It’s possible he thought it was something much less serious at first,” he suggested. “There have been cases on Pentath III where patients experienced a sudden exacerbation of the disease, leaving little time for treatment.”

Leaning back into the surprisingly plush chair, Julian took a few moments to review his knowledge of the plague. No matter how he looked at it, something just didn’t add up. “He must have been living with it for some time, unless the bacteria multiplied more rapidly than I’ve observed,” he mused. “When was his last visit?”

Parmak’s fingers ran over his console’s controls, pulling up the records. “Forty-two days ago when he received the vaccine,” he replied, looking up from the screen. “I gave him a clean bill of health.”

 Forty-two days…it was possible, but it still seemed odd that a prominent politician like Pa’Dar would have been so careless with his health. Julian brought a hand to his chin in contemplation. “I’d like to do an autopsy if I may,” he said at length.

A frown darkened Parmak’s features. “As would I, but I’m afraid that’s beyond my power.”

“What?” Julian’s eyes flicked back up to Parmak. The man was usually so cheerful that the stress lines on his face looked quite out of place. “You mean you haven’t seen him? Then who determined the cause of death?”

“That would be Dr. Rhemeny,” Parmak said simply.

Julian was running the name through his mind, uncertain he had ever heard it before, when Garak spoke.

“Isn’t it odd that a civilian like Pa’Dar would be taken to a doctor at Central Command?” Garak asked, eyeing Parmak contemplatively. “He was your patient, was he not?”

“He was,” Parmak confirmed. “But when I spoke with Rejal, she told me it was what Pa’Dar’s mother requested...” His gaze returned to Julian, frown deepening. “It seems she wasn’t very happy about the presence of Humans at this hospital.”

From the little he knew about Geleth Pa’Dar, Julian really shouldn’t have been surprised. Still, the ridiculousness of it had his face scrunching in confusion. “Well that’s a little extreme, isn’t it?” he huffed. “You’re one of the best doctors in the city, surely she would be able to put aside her prejudice for a chance to save her son!”

Garak was a calm pillar next to Julian’s exasperation, revealing nothing beyond a contemplative mask. “It’s more complicated than mere prejudice, Sid,” he said, turning to Julian. “Cardassian funeral rites forbid other species from viewing Cardassian remains.”

“That’s correct,” Parmak agreed, lacing his fingers together. “The upper class is particularly strict about this. Regardless of what I think about the custom, it’s understandable she didn’t want to run the risk of ‘disgracing’ her son.” He brushed back a strand of hair that had escaped the confines of his ponytail.

Well, it seemed even Cardassian traditions ran xenophobic. It was all so very convenient, a little voice whispered in the corner of Julian’s mind. “All right, forget me doing the autopsy,” he said, moving on to his next idea. “What if _you_ were to go over to wherever they’re keeping his body and have a quick look?”

Parmak shook his head solemnly. “I suggested that to Rejal when we spoke this morning, just to verify the cause of death for my records, but I’m afraid she’s uncomfortable with the notion. She doesn’t see the need for further probing and would like to begin the body preparation rituals. We can’t go against her wishes unless authorized by the family and I don’t think Geleth Pa’Dar would be amenable to the idea.”

Julian narrowed his eyes, the little whisper becoming a blaring klaxon as tension crept up his shoulders. “There has to be a way to get a look at the body,” he muttered, leaning forward with hands on his knees.

A soft sigh escaped Parmak’s lips as he pressed a finger into the concavity on his forehead. “I realize it may be important to your research, but I just don’t see a way we can do that. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not just about research…”

Julian’s voice trailed off as a hand rested on his leg, squeezing firmly above the knee. He paused, taking a moment to consider his words carefully.

“Don’t you find this just a little suspicious?” he asked with a quick glance to the viewscreen on the wall. Though Parmak said he had deactivated the surveillance in his office, Julian still kept his voice down, leaning even closer to Parmak’s desk. “Wouldn’t you like to rule out foul play?” He paused for a moment, watching the furrows appear on Parmak’s ridged brow. “I’d imagine assassination attempts still happen on Prime.”

Garak returned his hand to his own person, joining the conversation once again. “Especially with an administration that allows its detractors to be so vocal,” he added, his volume matching Julian’s. “I’ve seen the broadsheets and protests, Doctor. These are dangerous times you live in.”

Parmak’s eyes widened noticeably as they focused on Garak. “But the public always seemed so fond of Pa’Dar. He’s done much to help the city’s hospitals,” he insisted. His gaze flickered to Julian. “And an assassination like that would have to be very sophisticated to look like the plague. Dr. Rhemeny might be affiliated with Central Command, but I’d like to think someone in our profession wouldn’t knowingly cover up murder.” Worry was glimmering behind his grey eyes.

Garak regarded the Cardassian doctor evenly, fixing him with a pointed gaze. “I think you’ll find that doctors are capable of all sorts of things.”

Parmak’s eyes were back on Garak, Julian noted as he observed the two men. Something in Parmak’s features spoke to more than just worry about the fate of his former patient, a deeper distress that Julian couldn’t identify. But then it passed, leaving him little time to consider it further.

“Well do you have anything to back your suspicions?” Parmak asked, turning to Julian. “Rejal would need some pretty solid evidence to interrupt the mourning of her dear friend for a murder investigation.”

“I…”

Julian’s voice trailed off. Even heavier than the data rod in his pocket was the weight of Garak’s eyes upon him. He met his friend’s gaze for a fleeting second, glimpsing a clear warning behind usually opaque orbs.

 “No.”

Parmak eyed him curiously, tilting his head.

Though Julian’s tongue tried to rush forward in explanation, he paused for just a moment to better form his words. “I just think it’s strange how quickly it all happened and that they won’t let his physician near him.”

Another sigh escaped Parmak’s lips as he leaned back in his chair. The shadows under his eyes gave his appearance a strange withered quality. “As do I, Dr. El Fadil, but that’s not enough to take to Rejal,” he said. “I’m sorry. We’re all saddened by Pa’Dar’s death. He was a great man and a dear friend to me. The last thing I would want is to dishonor his memory, but I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do now.”

Julian’s shoulders slumped, releasing a breath. His mind whirled with a thousand thoughts, none of which he could tell Parmak. As much as he would have liked to trust the Cardassian doctor with more information, he couldn’t ignore Garak’s previous warning. A man who had broken under interrogation wasn’t the safest bet.

As if in answer to his thoughts, the doors opened and Telma stepped in.

“Sorry to interrupt, but you’re needed in surgery, Kelas,” she said, removing her sanitary mask. Her gaze swept over Julian and Garak unconcernedly.

Parmak’s eyes lit up in recollection. “That’s right, I almost forgot.” He rose a little stiffly from his chair, hissing softly as his back popped. “We can discuss this more later,” he said to Julian as he shuffled past.

It would have been polite to exit Parmak’s office after him, but Julian remained seated, shifting in his chair to regard Telma. The nurse needed only a look to understand his wishes, crossing the room to sit a little presumptively behind Parmak’s desk. “Good morning,” she greeted, a little belated. “I trust you two had a pleasant ride yesterday?”

“Telma, what do you know about Pa’Dar’s death?” Julian asked, ignoring the question.

Telma observed the two of them with a casual air, taking the time to straighten a stylus on Parmak’s desk. “They’re saying it’s the plague, aren’t they?” When she noticed Julian’s frown, she raised an eye ridge. “Oh, I hope you’re not beating yourself up over this. There’s no way you could have known he was sick if he didn’t come in for a checkup.”

“I –” Julian started, then paused just to be certain. Lowering his voice to a whisper, he asked, “Is Parmak’s office still clean?”

Telma nodded.

“I think Dukat murdered Pa’Dar.”

Though Telma’s eye ridges both shot up, she didn’t seem all that surprised. If anything, she appeared pleasantly amused as she rested a cheek in her palm. “Oh? That’s quite interesting. Care to elaborate?”

Narrowing his eyes, Julian met her casual demeanor with scrutiny. “You said it yourself. Kotan Pa’Dar was the main obstacle standing between Dukat and Rejal,” he explained, feeling the need to prove more than just his theory. “Without Pa’Dar on the Council, Dukat’s ideas will fall on more receptive ears.”

“All right, you have a pretty solid motive,” Telma acknowledged, reclining comfortably in the chair with arms folded across her chest. “But do you have evidence?” She cocked an eye ridge.

Julian’s fingers hooked around the isolinear rod in his pocket, drawing it out to show his contact. “We have this,” he said. Even before this turn of events, he had been planning to show her a copy of the surveillance recording, hoping it might prove more useful to her.

Telma reached out to receive the data rod, eyeing it curiously. “And this is…?”

“Dukat and Damar’s conversation under the Veterans’ Bridge yesterday,” Julian explained, folding a leg across his knee. “It’s a little vague but it certainly sounded like they were plotting something, planning to meet someone. We followed Damar’s skimmer to Coranum but an officer stopped us from going any further.”

Garak continued to sit serenely beside him, betraying none of the mistrust he undoubtedly felt toward Telma. “It seems Federation citizens aren’t allowed unaccompanied in such an opulent part of town,” he drawled, all affected surprise.

Julian’s gaze returned to his contact. “Pa’Dar’s house is in Coranum, isn’t it? Damar must have been on his way to see him.”

There was a pensive aspect to Telma’s features as she leaned forward, tapping the data rod lightly against the desk. “I wouldn’t put an assassination plot past Dukat and his henchmen. But whatever he did to him, it must have been clever enough to fool our doctors.”

“That’s just it,” Julian said, eyeing her intently. “Only a Central Command doctor was allowed to see the body.”

Her fingers stilled as she returned Julian’s gaze, fully intrigued. “Ah. That _is_ interesting.” She brought the isolinear rod back up to eye level and asked, “Is this enough to implicate Dukat?”

Shifting in his seat, Julian replayed the overheard conversation in his head, wishing for the hundredth time that Cardassians weren’t so ambiguous by nature. “Well, not on its own,” he admitted, then quickly proceeded. “But it might be enough to authorize another autopsy. If I – or you, or even Dr. Parmak – were able to see the body, we could determine if it really was the plague that killed him.”

Silence ensued as Telma twirled Julian’s evidence around in her hand, face set in consideration. “I see…” she murmured at length. “I’ll have one of my people bring this to Rejal’s attention, but I’m going to be honest with you, Julian. Unless this has Dukat clearly instructing Damar to assassinate Pa’Dar, Dukat will be able to come up with an explanation to satisfy Rejal. I’m sure you’re both well aware how cunning the man is.”

“I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure,” Garak said smoothly.

Julian let his friend’s obvious lie pass right by him, his mind caught on Telma’s words. “You have contacts close to Rejal?” he questioned, brow furrowing. Somehow he had assumed Starfleet Intelligence had only a few operatives on Prime, especially if they were enlisting a doctor’s aid. “Why am I only now hearing about this?”

A wrinkle appeared in Telma’s calm demeanor, a hint of frustration coloring her words. “What, you think you’re entitled to know how many people we have on Prime? Rest assured they’re doing their job so that you can do yours.” Her stern visage broke into practiced indifference as she slipped the data rod into her pocket. “I’ll keep you informed on any updates, but it might take a little while.”

He remained in his seat for a moment, deliberating whether to press the issue, but quickly decided against it. If he wanted Telma’s help in this matter, he would have to play by her rules. “All right,” he acquiesced a little stiffly. “Thank you.”

Standing up, Julian crossed the room and was half-way out the door when he noticed Garak’s absence. Looking back, he found Garak slowly rising from his chair, looming over Telma’s seated form. His words were soft but still audible to Julian’s superior hearing.

“Your affiliation with Starfleet may have earned the dear doctor’s trust, but I’m afraid it takes a little more to convince me,” Garak said, a subtle warning lurking below his pleasant tone.

Telma seemed unconcerned by the man before her, remaining seated as she grinned up at him. “Really, I’m glad the ‘dear doctor’ chose to bring you along,” she remarked, eyes shimmering. “It eases my mind to know he has such a devoted friend watching his back.”

Garak leaned a little closer. Though Julian couldn’t see his face, he heard a smile in his voice. “A fact I wouldn’t soon forget.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Garak. I don’t plan to.”

 

* * *

 

He leaned back against the couch cushions, bringing the broadsheet closer to his face as he skimmed through its contents. This issue, snagged at the _geleta_ house on their way home, seemed more hastily compiled than previous ones Julian had seen, ink smudged and riddled with misprints.

How were the Torr dissidents responding to the death of Kotan Pa’Dar, the only Council member that had retained their support? There were paragraphs upon paragraphs relaying their sorrow and distress, some blaming the doctors or the war in general, but not a single murmur of assassination suspicions. It seemed even _they_ feared such a bold assertion. Perhaps Julian would have been wise to do likewise, but with all these coincidences staring him in the face, how could he avoid the obvious conclusion?

Though he was back in their apartment, lounging quite comfortably on the couch, he couldn’t quell the restlessness inside him. His shift had passed unbelievably slowly as he waited to hear from Telma, but she didn’t contact him again. It had been difficult to get much work done with his mind so occupied, sparking a little guilt after what he had promised himself. But even that guilt was pushed aside by his preoccupation with Pa’Dar.

Telma and her contact must still have been working on inconspicuously slipping Rejal the recording, but she could have at least updated him at the end of his shift. She was busy assisting in surgery when Julian checked the hospital’s schematics, and though he had waited around for a few minutes, he soon decided their evening was better spent at home with a secure console. Still, it did little to assuage his anxiety.

The more he considered it, the more he doubted the strength of their evidence. When he had first connected the dots, he had been certain the recording was enough to at least raise suspicions, prompting a closer look into Pa’Dar’s death. But now as he considered Telma’s words, he found that assumption a little naïve. Oh, it was probably enough evidence to convict the average citizen (or Starfleet officer), if Julian knew anything about Cardassian judicial practices. But for a man as powerful and well-connected as Dukat…well, they would have to see. He only wished he could get his hands on more evidence.

He had spent the better part of his afternoon in research, looking for poisons that might mimic the plague’s effects on the body. That hadn’t led anywhere yet, but he was determined to keep trying once Garak was finished with the console. If such a poison existed, it probably wouldn’t be among the first dozen entries on the comnet.

They still retained access to Damar’s personal comm, but that hadn’t divulged any evidence either. Whatever the glinn had done to Pa’Dar, he was cautious enough to avoid making record of it.

Once Julian had finished poring through the broadsheet, he lifted his head with renewed restlessness. Garak was still at the console, trying and failing to access Coranum surveillance. How long had he been at that now? Counting last night, he calculated exactly 7.38 hours. Did it really take so long to hack into one surveillance camera?

Rising to his feet, he strode over to Garak and studied the console. The long strings of code made as much sense to him as a postganglionic nerve would to anyone without medical training. “Any luck?” he asked, resting a hand on the back of Garak’s chair.

“Yes, but none of it good,” Garak murmured, eyes fixed on the screen as his fingers flew across the controls. “It seems Alon Ghemor is quite capable when it comes to protecting himself and his friends. Of all the outdoor surveillance systems in the city, Coranum has the most heavily secured. They’re using an entirely different system of security protocols. I always knew Ghemor was a clever one.” He sounded oddly impressed.

It was plausible enough, but as Julian continued to watch the Cardassian at work, trying to understand his methods, there was a nagging memory of another time Garak sat at this console. How could he know if Garak was being honest with him? There was a good chance he might be concealing something. Julian couldn’t think of a credible reason why he wouldn’t be helpful in this instance – Garak hated Dukat more than most people – but it frustrated him that such an option was possible. After all, it seemed that the devices he most needed to access were always inaccessible, especially to an accomplished hacker like Garak.

“Funny how you always seemed to know what was happening on DS9, but now when we could actually benefit from your hacking – ”

Garak stopped him with a sharp glare over his shoulder. “Well if you don’t think I’m doing a good enough job, by all means, Doctor, be my guest.” He let out a sardonic laugh, offering the console with a swooping gesture. “I’m quite curious to see how far you’ll get before we have Bureau agents beating down our door.”

Julian frowned, pressing two fingers to the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t really argue with that. As frustrated as he was with his friend, now was no time to confront him. He wasn’t exactly in the position to alienate his only helper. Though he hated feeling like he needed Garak for this assignment, that he was absolutely dependent on his assistance, that was what it seemed like, at least until Starfleet offered even a modicum of training. But he wouldn’t hold his breath.

“All right, I’m sorry,” Julian apologized, heaving a sigh. “I’m just a little tired of being kept in dark.”

Garak swiveled his chair around, meeting Julian’s gaze. “It comes with the territory, I’m afraid. You’re told only what you need to know.” Though he must have known he was beating a dead horse, his tone was remarkably patient.

Perhaps, but there were things Julian would really have _liked_ to know. “Was it the same way for you in the Order?” he asked casually – as casually as one could mention the Order.

“It was,” Garak answered. A smile curled the corners of his mouth as he continued. “But much like you, I wasn’t satisfied with that, so I often found my own ways of answering my questions.”

A silence fell between them as Julian considered his friend’s words. Clearly that was the only way he would ever get answers, but how exactly would he accomplish that? He needed to tread lightly.

Garak’s voice interrupted his strategizing, bringing him back to a more pressing concern. “Believe me, Doctor, I’m doing all I can here,” he said. There was no smile on his lips now, lending an unusual sincerity to his tone and features. “I didn’t have a personal connection with Pa’Dar, but I would hate to see Dukat profit from killing a better man, if he did indeed do as you suspect.”

Julian studied his friend’s features, struck by the change but reluctant to trust it. After a moment he sat down on the arm of the couch and asked, “Do you think he did it?”

 A smile stretched across Garak’s face as Julian’s old lunchtime debater-mentor reemerged. “There are several interesting coincidences surrounding Pa’Dar’s death,” he mused, lacing his fingers together. “I trust you recall what I once told you about coincidences?”

It was ridiculous how well Julian remembered all his conversations with Garak, as if he really had been infatuated from the beginning. “You believe in them, but you don’t trust them,” he answered, perhaps a little too quickly.

Garak’s blue eyes twinkled at the response. “What a sharp memory you have!” he remarked, grinning widely. “Almost like a Cardassian…”

Julian frowned, silently cursing his blunder.

“Oh don’t look at me like that,” Garak reproached lightly. “It was meant as a compliment!”

They shared a little laugh, but there was too much preventing Julian from really enjoying the moment. Once Garak had turned back to the console, Julian released a breath and flopped back on the couch, laying a hand over his face rather dramatically before rubbing his eyes.

Headache temporarily assuaged, he unfolded the broadsheet and began rereading it. His mind wandered as his eyes ran over the familiar text, thoughts drawn to Pa’Dar’s poor orphaned son. Rugal hadn’t seemed too fond of Pa’Dar when they first met on DS9, but Julian hoped Rugal had come to tolerate his father, if not love him. He was well aware that sometimes familial relationships could never be patched. But Rugal’s residence in Torr seemed to suggest unresolved strife. Still, even if he had never come to love his father, Rugal must be feeling some grief over the sudden passing. If Julian’s father were to suddenly die…

But he pushed that thought away, grappling with enough problems at the moment. What was he thinking about before? Ah, yes, Rugal…

Julian sat up abruptly, the broadsheet falling from his chest. “There might be another way to get a look at Pa’Dar’s body,” he announced.

Garak turned to him with both eyebrows raised, looking quite intrigued. “Oh?”

“Parmak said we would need the family’s permission to perform another autopsy, right?” Julian asked, but hurried on before Garak could answer. “Well what about Rugal? He’s his son and –”

Garak raised a hand to stop the rapid flow of ideas. “Don’t tell me you’re still considering revealing your identity to him,” he said, voice dripping with disappointment. “Doctor, I’ve told you –”

But it was Julian’s turn to interrupt. “No, I wouldn’t have to,” he insisted. “Telma could ask him.”

A pensive look crossed Garak’s features as he seemed to consider it, but disappeared when he raised keen eyes to Julian. “Do you think the boy would authorize another autopsy without good reason?”

Considering the question, Julian’s gaze drifted to the end table where the original data rod sat harmlessly by. “Well we could send him the recording, couldn’t we?” He rose to his feet with the isolinear rod in hand, energy coursing through him. “Through Telma or an anonymous tip or…” His voice trailed off, noticing a troubled look on Garak’s features. “What?”

Garak didn’t respond immediately, gathering his thoughts for what promised to be an illuminating lesson. When he did speak, Julian found himself slowly sitting back down.

“Tell me, Doctor, what do you think would happen if Rugal and his friends in the Torr dissident movement thought their beloved champion had been assassinated? Do you know who they would blame?”

“Dukat?” Julian guessed, but knew by Garak’s expression that he was wrong. “No, Rejal.”

Garak’s face was a mask of stone, bearing none of the usual exaggerated pride at Julian’s comprehension. “Correct,” he said succinctly. “It would only strengthen their belief that the civilian government has failed them. They might even hold Pa’Dar up as a martyr. And what would happen if they were angry enough to revolt? How do you think such a turn of events would unfold, seeing that one side has all the weapons?”

Julian’s shoulders slumped, lips pulling into a scowl as Garak’s argument became clear. “I see your point.” Try as he might, even his augmented brain couldn’t find a way around that little detail. If Rugal wasn’t involved with the dissident movement, then maybe it would have worked…But not now. He couldn’t risk being the catalyst for a bloodbath. Dukat could only stand to gain power if such a terrible thing occurred.

He slipped the data rod back into his pocket.

Garak seemed to understand his thoughts, his stony mask breaking to reveal a tired man. “I’m afraid there’s too much at play here to risk involving Rugal,” he said, pressing his thumb below an eyebrow to soothe his headache. “Besides, I think sparking a revolution falls a little outside the realm of reconnaissance, let alone that beloved Prime Directive of yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should just rename this story "Garak Shoots Down Julian's Ideas."
> 
> Tune in next week for bad news, a funeral, and a violent clash.


	16. Unrest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Telma gives some bad news, Julian and Garak watch a funeral, and the dissidents hold a rally in Torr.

He had found it. It had taken every slow moment of his morning and the entirety of his lunch, but by the early afternoon Julian had found a poison that mimicked the Rudellian plague. It was compromised of airborne toxins that, upon entering the lungs, spread rapidly throughout the body in the exact same way as the plague, down to the microcellular level. There were just a few minute differences that could only be detected if you knew what to look for. Dukat had been quite thorough in his research, it seemed.

How useful this discovery would be, he wasn’t sure. He had yet to see Telma today, the morning keeping her conveniently occupied in surgery or running medical deliveries. But now, as he leaned back from his research, he realized that an hour had passed since he last checked the computer for her location. Tapping the console controls, he was pulling up the schematics when there was a buzz at his door.

“Come in,” he said, rising from his desk.

Telma entered his office with her usual casual demeanor, her face revealing nothing as she pulled down her mask. Julian’s mouth was already open in inquiry when she spoke. “I have good news and bad news. Which do you want first?”

Feeling like a fish, Julian closed his mouth before deciding arbitrarily, “The good news, I suppose.”

There was a pause as Telma cast her gaze around the room, as if her eyes alone could detect any new surveillance devices. “The city constabulary brought Damar in for questioning,” she informed once she was satisfied.

Julian studied her face, hoping she would elaborate. “All right, that’s good…” he remarked, then ventured to ask, “What’s the bad news?”

The look on Telma’s face told Julian he wasn’t going to like what he was about to hear. “They cleared him of any suspicion,” she informed, shaking her head. “As I feared, Dukat was able to explain the recording to Rejal’s satisfaction. He claimed that Damar was doing nothing more than lobbying Central Command’s cause to a vocal opponent of Councillor Regnok’s bill. All that talk under the Veterans’ Bridge was just Dukat advising him on how to best make their case, since Damar isn’t the most articulate of men. And Damar swears that Pa’Dar looked quite sickly when he visited, and that he encouraged him to see a doctor.”

By the time Telma had finished her explanation, Julian’s disbelief was written plainly across his forehead. “That’s ridiculous,” he opined, regarding her with an open-mouth frown. “I can’t believe she would fall for that. It’s obvious Dukat had more in mind than mere politicking.”

Telma eyed him curiously, raising a brow ridge. “You seem quite certain,” she observed, folding her arms across her chest.

“Well aren’t you?” Julian shot back, voicing rising slightly in exasperation. There was always something peculiar about her attitude towards him, as if she were constantly testing him. “Dukat has always hated Pa’Dar, and Pa’Dar just so happens to fall gravely ill before an important vote that could restore much of Dukat’s power? Shortly after he’s visited by Damar? And look –” He stepped aside so that she could see his screen, pointing at a molecular diagram. “A poison that perfectly mimics the plague’s effects on the body. All the evidence is here now. We can expose him!”

Telma had crossed the room while he spoke, fiddling with the replicator until it produced two mugs of redleaf tea. She glanced vaguely at his findings, an impassive contrast to his excitement. “And how do you suppose we do that?” she asked, handing him a mug.

Julian accepted the beverage out of politeness, but quickly set it aside. Her constant nonchalance was beginning to irritate him. “I don’t know, but we need to see that body,” he mused, mind churning with calculations. “If we could sneak in to wherever they’re keeping it, I would only need a few minutes to run the necessary scans to prove it wasn’t the Rudellian plague. Rejal would have to be suspicious then!”

Telma took a leisurely sip of her tea as she considered his idea. “An ambitious plan…” she remarked at length. “If only they hadn’t cremated the body this morning.”

Julian blinked. “What?”

There was not a hint of distress upon Telma’s face as she claimed a nearby chair, making herself quite comfortable. “Oh, I suppose I had two pieces of bad news,” she corrected.

Frustration wrinkled Julian’s features, a vein protruding from his forehead. “Great,” he muttered, sinking down into his chair. He was really starting to tire of these dead ends, his efforts being undermined at every turn. He tried to think of another way forward, but without the Coranum surveillance records that Garak still failed to access, his last option was shot. No matter what calculations he made, he was always missing a key factor. Raising his gaze to Telma, he could only hope she had some ideas he had not considered. “Well now what do we do?”

Telma met his eyes over her mug, taking another sip before setting it aside. “I don’t see much else we can do,” she answered simply.

Though he could feel his irritation rising, Julian made the effort to restrain himself, pinching the bridge of his nose. His exasperation only seemed to amuse her in these circumstances. “We can’t just do nothing,” he insisted, emphatic but controlled. “An innocent man was murdered! Perhaps if your contact could speak to Rejal again, plant some doubts –”

Telma interrupted before he could finish his plan, shaking her head. “I really don’t think Rejal would be open to investigating this further, even if Pa’Dar was a close friend,” she stated definitively. “Can you imagine what would happen if word of this leaked? Her public image is already on precarious footing. It could mean the end of her administration.”

Julian leaned forward in his chair, quick to counter her argument. “But surely she would find this information valuable! If she knew Dukat was involved, she would _at least_ dispel him from her circle of advisors.”

Telma’s unconcerned air seemed to be fading, a little impatient coloring her tone. “Frankly, Doctor, there are other things we need to focus on,” she said, eyeing him sternly. “Even if you could prove Pa’Dar didn’t die of natural causes, I think you’ll find that the justice system works quite differently here.”

 Julian opened his mouth to respond, but she continued before he speak.

“And this hardly serves our purposes,” the Cardassian woman went on. “We’re aware that political leaders constantly backstab one another, but we need to focus on the big picture. We need proof of Dominion involvement. Dukat will be bolder now without Pa’Dar in his way. He might slip up. You need to watch him like a hawk.”

Julian’s lips curved into a deep frown as he listened to her words, trying to understand her underlying motive. Her indifference in this matter was baffling. Didn’t she stress how vital Pa’Dar was to opposing Dukat’s plans and countering his influence over Rejal?

“You make it sound like Pa’Dar’s death is almost _convenient_ for you,” Julian observed, voice laced with disapproval. “Forgive me for not understanding, but if we could remove Dukat from power, wouldn’t that take care of the Dominion plot?”

A sly grin crept upon Telma’s features, eyes shimmering. “Careful, Julian,” she warned. “That sort of interference comes awfully close to breaking the Prime Directive.”

Julian narrowed his eyes, a thousand furrows appearing on his forehead. He had to admit that the Prime Directive hadn’t crossed his mind too often since arriving on Prime, trusting that Starfleet Intelligence wouldn’t issue him orders that violated it. Garak’s remark last night had brought it to the forefront of his mind, but he didn’t see how his idea crossed any lines. The facts were already there, they just needed to be presented to the right people. And after knowing – or not really knowing – Telma for a little while, somehow he didn’t think she was very concerned with a strict adherence to the Directive.

“You never seemed too concerned with that before,” he pointed out, jaw clenched. “Isn’t what you’re doing here already coming close to that?”

The smile faded from Telma’s face, her lips pulling into a tight line. “Of course not,” she answered firmly. “We’re simply here to observe and prepare for any threats that may face the Federation.”

He would have liked to believe her – she _was_ Starfleet after all – but there was a little doubt whispering in the back of his mind, its voice sounding suspiciously like Garak. After studying Telma incredulously, he brushed it aside. “But we wouldn’t be planting false evidence here,” he maintained. “Rejal has the right to know who killed her friend. You must have ways to inform her without violating the Prime Directive.”

She was usually so relaxed that it was odd to see Telma like this, her shoulders tense and her brow furrowed. Her patience was running thin. “The recording you obtained is simply not enough to prove Dukat’s involvement,” she said sharply. “There’s nothing more we can do now that the body has been destroyed. It’s time to face that fact and move on.” Her gaze fixed pointedly on his. “And if you can’t, you’re welcome to go home.”

Julian’s eyes widened, frustration giving way to surprise. “You would really just let me walk out of here with what I know?” he asked skeptically.

A small, amused grin was back on Telma’s face as she eyed him with thinly veiled condescension. “I’m not afraid of what you know, Julian,” she said, as if the idea was quite ridiculous. “My identity can be changed again, and the rest is harmless. Perhaps now you understand why we take the approach that we do.”

Julian frowned. “You thought I would want out.”

Telma raised a brow ridge, lacing her fingers together. “It’s always a possibility, especially when we enlist outside help.”

It was strange, and perhaps a bit too impulsive, but Julian only needed a moment of consideration before his decision was made. If he was being honest, it had been made yesterday morning.

“Well I can’t quit now, not when I can help stop the loss of more innocent lives,” he declared, determination shimmering in his eyes. Just a few days ago the prospect would have tempted him, but now…Now he was in too deep. He had to continue, if only for Rugal’s sake.

But no, he had many other reasons to continue this mission. What Dukat did to Pa’Dar was only a taste of what he was capable of, what he was willing to do to claw his way into power. And if the Dominion was involved, what started here would soon spread to the entire quadrant.

The smile on Telma’s face grew, stretching wide across her grey features. “You can never really stop it, I’m afraid – just lessen its degree,” she observed. Taking her mug in hand, she rose from her seat and started for the door. “Well, keep me updated on Dukat’s activity.” Her fingers hovered over the control panel for a moment as she looked over her shoulder. “You’ve got a lot of passion, Julian. I’m sure you’ll prove useful to us soon.”

Before Julian could respond, she was gone.

 

* * *

 

The days that followed Pa’Dar’s death were the quietest Julian had seen on Cardassia Prime. Whether in Torr or the Tarlak Sector, everyone he passed seemed a little subdued. There was less chatter on the streets and in the shuttles, less excitement in the Central Market as people crowded around stalls for the chance at a fresh meal. The whole city was in mourning.

Though it was a respectful observance, there was something very eerie about the silence as Julian and Garak made their way home from their shuttle stop each evening. “The calm before the storm,” Garak had muttered once under his breath.

Kotan Pa’Dar’s memorial was held four days after his passing was announced, starting just as the red sun was sinking below Coranum’s hills. Julian and Garak had decided to observe this occasion from the safety of their apartment, angling the couch to watch the screen more comfortably.

Julian had been planning to bury his nose in plague research with the ‘casts in the background, a few padds piled on his lap, but his attention was soon captured by the screen. A Cardassian funeral was not something you had the chance to see every day. Watching as aerial shots flitted across the screen, he was glad they had decided not to attend in person. Security appeared quite tight, dark masses of uniformed constables and police skimmers scattered throughout the crowd. There seemed to be police everywhere, and in some parts of Torr they had erected barriers between the road and the walkways.

The memorial commenced with a funeral procession, solemn and stately as it weaved its way through the city. Kotan Pa’Dar had been quite a wealthy politician, and his friends spared no expense on this occasion, mourning what most thought was the first prominent victim of the Rudellian plague.

Julian scowled. Frowns were still a constant on his face these days, but the fire had mostly died. There was no use raging about the injustice anymore – he needed to keep his mind clear and focused.

He had slipped back into the usual routine, balancing the investigation and his medical research as best he could. They were both equally crucial, he had come to realize, so he would just have to throw himself into both of them. But so far his luck hadn’t changed. Any hopes that Damar might be the Changeling were quashed when Julian pulled up his medical records, finding recent blood test results. Not only that, but he was unable to monitor the glinn closely anymore, his person comm showing no more activity since Pa’Dar’s death. It seemed he did have something to hide, taking stricter measures of security in his communication.

Julian turned his attention back to the ‘casts.

The procession ended in the Tarlak Sector, culminating in front of a towering obelisk, some monument Julian hadn’t learned the name of. There began a long series of speeches, something Garak assured him was quite common at memorials. Funerals could stretch on for days if the deceased had enough longwinded friends to eulogize them. Cardassians and their damned speeches…

Julian paid attention to the first few, noting Rejal’s heartfelt but carefully crafted address, those politically expedient assurances thinly disguised as words of comfort. Alon Ghemor followed shortly after, and with him there seemed only sincerity in his fond recollections about Kotan Pa’Dar. At least Pa’Dar still had one genuine friend left among his colleagues.

All of the important guests – family, close friends, and high-ranking colleagues – sat in chairs upon the dais, positioned directly behind the podium. There were many faces Julian recognized there, faces he had to avoid in public, but on the screen he could study them without concern. The Five were all in attendance (well, they were the Four now), their security teams creating an imposing barrier around the platform. Geleth was seated in the front with a bouquet of red flowers in her lap, looking even more haggard than she did at Central. But Rugal Pa’Dar was nowhere to be seen.

Julian felt a pang of sadness as he wondered about the boy. He had been taken from one father to another, and ended up losing both, leaving him an orphan once more. It no longer posed legal issues, his age giving him status in society, but now there were no kindly Bajoran families to take him in. Julian only hoped he had a close friend or two to support him through his grieving. As much as Julian yearned to help the boy, he knew there was nothing he could do. Garak was right, he had come to realize. They couldn’t afford to trust anyone, not even Rugal. The only way Julian could help him now was to keep a close eye on his father’s murderer.

 Ithas Bamarek was giving his speech now, his delivery far too slow and monotone to keep Julian’s attention for long. Returning to his research, he was only half-way through the first paragraph when Garak spoke.

“Ah, here’s something that may interest you,” the Cardassian said, looking up from his padd.

Julian shifted to get a better look at Garak’s padd, tucking his feet comfortably under himself. Garak observed him with a peculiar, almost surprised interest, as if he was unaccustomed to seeing legs fold that way. Perhaps it wasn’t a common position for Cardassians.

When Julian had peered over his padd long enough, Garak saw fit to explain. “Regnok’s bill has made it to the Civilian Assembly. There will be a vote in the next few days.”

A frown darkened Julian’s features. “Brilliant. I would hate to think Dukat had gone to all that trouble for nothing,” he muttered.

Garak set down his padd, meeting Julian’s gaze contemplatively. “I wouldn’t despair just yet, Doctor,” he said. “The Assembly may indeed pass the bill, since some of its ranks remain loyal to Central Command, and the tide of the war has made many nervous. But that has little to do with Pa’Dar. The Council has veto power, which I’m certain some members will take full advantage of in this case. Only then will we see if Dukat has succeeded.”

Julian’s scowl softened slightly as he considered Garak’s words. “Does the veto require a majority or a unanimous vote?”

A smile played at the corners of Garak’s mouth. “Oh, it’s been quite a while since I brushed up on my policy-making,” he said, running a hand over his hair. “But I believe it’s just a majority. Two-thirds of the Council, if my memory serves me right.”

“Then Dukat only needs to turn enough people to his side,” Julian observed bleakly. Resting his chin in his palm, he took a moment to really consider what was happening here, what _would_ happen if Garak knew anything about his people’s politics. Really, the whole situation was rather incongruous. “What I don’t understand is how Rejal or any of the others would let it pass,” he remarked, raising his gaze to Garak. “Wasn’t the whole point of the coup to take back power from Central Command? Why would they give it up so willingly?”

Garak didn’t respond right away, taking a moment to push aside the padds that littered the table. “Simply put, Doctor, because of this,” he said, holding up a half-folded broadsheet. “Rejal has lost control of the people. We are seeing things that Cardassia City hasn’t seen in many years – protests, graffiti, arson of State property. Just last night there was a large demonstration outside the technical school west of here…She’s scared.”

Taking the broadsheet from Garak, Julian gave it quick scan, eyes lingering on one of the many headlines calling for Cardassian suffrage. These voices, so full of hope and passion, were in a grim minority. “Will your people ever stop trading freedom for security?” he asked, brow furrowing.

“Ah, I’m afraid that’s our reptilian brain you like to chide us for.”

It was difficult not to smile when Garak was looking at him like that, all feigned vexation threatening to crack into a grin at any moment. Honestly he was surprised Garak remembered that conversation they had had about Cardassian psychology – it seemed like ages ago. But his smile gradually faded as a thought occurred to him. “Have they appointed a replacement for Pa’Dar?”

Garak leaned back into the couch cushions, eyes returning to the viewscreen as another orator babbled softly in the background. “Yes, but it’s uncertain which way this man leans,” he replied. “Rejal simply promoted the next person in line at the Science Ministry to the Council – a man named Ferrok.  I haven’t gathered much about his allegiances. But from how it seems now, he won’t be filling Pa’Dar’s role in the Five. Rejal is quite selective about who she receives counsel from.”

Not selective enough, in Julian’s opinion. “He’ll probably be stopping by the hospital for a blood test, but I won’t get my hopes up this time,” he remarked, leaning back as well. At a different time the casual proximity of their bodies might have thrilled him, but his current mood was a little too gloomy to notice.

A hum of agreement reverberated in Garak’s chest, his easy smile returning. “It’s best not to have many hopes in this line of work. Things never turn out quite as nicely as we would like.”

Julian’s mouth remained in a tight line, looking unconvinced.

“Oh, but don’t look so glum, Doctor,” Garak chided, voice rising theatrically. “I for one am impressed by the progress you’ve made.” He gave Julian’s knee a brief, friendly pat.

Julian’s eyes fell to his knee, a little surprised by the touch, before looking back up at Garak. “What progress?” he asked, running a hand over his face. “I’m back where I started with nothing to show for it.”

A wide grin spread across Garak’s features, blue eyes shimmering with pride. “Yes, but look how these setbacks have tempered your idealism. You’re starting to sound like a regular cynic!”

Really, that Cardassian took pleasure in the strangest things. Rolling his eyes, Julian said, “Well I’m glad my disenchantment amuses you, Garak.” He folded his arms and looked back at the screen.

It didn’t take long for something to grab his attention.

“I can’t believe they’re letting him speak,” Julian huffed, baffled by what he was seeing. There, ascending the dais and approaching the podium, was the darkly clad, long-necked form of Legate Dukat.

Garak rolled his eyes. “Computer, decrease volume.”

“No, I want to hear this,” Julian said. “Computer, increase volume.”

For a moment Julian heard nothing over the roar of his own thoughts, struggling to process the sight on the viewscreen. How could a murderer possibly be allowed to speak at the funeral of his victim? Even if no one really did suspect the truth, they had to know about the animosity that had existed between Dukat and Pa’Dar. Who would allow this?

His eyes focused narrowly on Rejal’s seated figure.

Dukat’s voice wafted back into Julian’s hearing, all “my deepest condolences” this and “how grieved we are” that as he droned on in that slimily charismatic way of his. He praised Pa’Dar’s accomplishments in the most soaring terms, then lapsed into flowery descriptions of what a _devoted_ father Pa’Dar had been, all the sacrifices he made to mend his broken family. Surely Julian wasn’t the only one who heard the undercurrent of sarcasm in his words. But only Geleth Pa’Dar was glaring in open contempt.

When Dukat began describing how deeply he had been affected by this loss, Julian had had enough. “What a load of bullshit,” he muttered, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Is anyone buying this? Aren’t they aware of what he did to Rugal? It’s unbelievable –” His rant died on his tongue when he noticed the odd grin Garak was wearing. “What?”

Garak shrugged innocently, his smile only widening further. “Oh, it’s nothing, my dear Doctor,” he dismissed, eyes full of laughter. “It’s just quite satisfying to see someone share my distaste for that man.”

 

* * *

 

A few more days passed in the same nondescript fashion, offering nothing new on Dukat’s plans or Regnok’s bill. With the mourning period over, the city returned to its usual unconcerned bustle, paying little attention to anything outside their own lives. There were a few small rallies here and there in the western end of Torr, the same sign waving and leafletting as Julian had seen, but nothing seemed to come of them. Then, as the week was drawing to a close, the dam broke.

A loud sigh interrupted Julian’s concentration as he sifted through the padds around his office, deciding which ones would need further study that evening. Raising his gaze, he found impatience written clearly on Garak’s face as he leaned against the desk, arms folded across his chest.

“Just a moment more,” Julian promised, squinting at a padd as he ran through its contents in his head. “I need to make sure I bring enough medical journals home tonight.”

“Oh yes, State forbid you ever run out.”

Julian shot him a glare, ready to remind him about the importance of his research, when the door buzzed. “Come in,” he said.

The door slid open and Dr. Parmak entered, Telma at his side. He took only a few steps before pausing, and though he left his mask on, Julian could see a hint of worry in his eyes.

“I hate to ask this of you two, but would you mind staying a little later?” the Cardassian doctor asked, his tone apologetic.

“Of course,” Julian answered immediately, eyes shifting between the two of them. “What’s the problem?” Though his eyes landed on Telma, she remained silent.

“Our replicators were down for most of the day, setting us back on today’s vaccine quota,” Parmak explained, frustration coloring his voice. “We’ll need to run the replicators all night to catch up, and we need a few extra shifts of people to oversee production.”

Julian’s eyes remained fixed Telma, gleaning nothing from her half-hidden face. It was strange that Parmak would ask this of him when there were ample nurses on the night shifts that could handle it. Whatever the reason, there was only one way to find out. “We’re happy to help,” he assured the doctor.

Garak was all smiles now, echoing Julian’s agreement graciously.

Julian’s eyes followed the doctor and nurse as they turned to go, and sure enough, Telma paused on the threshold once Parmak had disappeared out of sight.

“You may want to stay longer than the first shift. Something tells me it would be wise to avoid Torr tonight.”

She left before Julian could try to ask for details. Left with a cryptic warning, he and Garak could only take a moment to check the ‘casts (nothing out of the ordinary yet) before reporting to the basement where the industrial replicators were operated. Still, it was difficult not to spend the next couple hours worrying about what might be happening in Torr, especially when operating replicators turned out to be quite monotonous work.

When they were finally relieved by the next shift, they made a beeline for the nearest breakroom. There were only a few people sitting around a corner table, bleary-eyed and sipping gelat with a holo-documentary droning quietly in the background. Garak found the controls on the viewscreen in an instant, switching the channel and increasing the volume. Neither man bothered to sit down.

A newscaster’s voice cut through the silence in the room.

_“Violence has broken out in the west end of Torr as an unruly mob charges the police line, refusing to disperse. In order to maintain public safety, police have had no choice but to respond with force to subdue the rioters. Rest assured that the situation will be brought under control momentarily. All residents of Torr are advised to stay in their houses with their doors and windows locked.”_

Scenes flashed upon the screen to underscore the newscaster’s report, rapid glimpses and sounds of chaos. Images rushed hastily into one another, as if discouraging viewers from looking too closely into the fray. But Julian’s eyes were quicker than most.

An aerial shot revealed two masses clashing in the middle of the street, one clearly pushing the other backwards as smoke and dust wafted all around, tinted pink by a blood-red sky. The scene was lit by the flashes of disruptor fire, and scored by the wailing of sirens and the screams of pain and confusion. Armored vehicles were parked on the perimeter of the battle, blocking the only two exits from the sector.

It was difficult to make out many details in the dark and chaotic footage, but one thing was clear – those weren’t the ordinary gray and silver uniforms of the city constabulary. They were Central Command uniforms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On an unrelated note, I'm looking forward to seeing the DS9 documentary on the big screen this Monday. I can't wait to see what Andy thinks about Garak after all these years, especially since I've exhausted all his interviews on YouTube. And if he mentions Garak's relationship with Bashir, I might die.
> 
> Tune in next week for a night at the hospital, a changed district, and a question.


	17. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian and Garak return to Torr after spending a night at the hospital, and Julian asks a question.

“Computer, display biochemical sample fourteen beside –”

His command was cut off by a yawn, muddying the rest of his words. Once it had passed, Julian shook his head and repeated the command, this time with more success. When the requested diagrams appeared side by side on the screen, he did his best to ignore his headache and squinted at the results.

He was still processing the information when an unannounced guest entered his office without so much as a knock.

Tearing his eyes from his work, he found Garak standing by the doors as they slid closed. It was strange to see Garak’s hair a little mussed and his scrubs wrinkled, but there really wasn’t much the tailor could do about that in their current situation.

“Have you been up all this time?” Garak asked him, taking a step closer to where Julian was standing.

Julian shrugged, turning back to his research. “Yes.” He tapped a control to zoom into the diagram, peering at it intently.

Garak, naturally, didn’t seem inclined to take the hint and was soon by Julian’s side. “Your shift starts in two hours,” he reminded, gazing over the cluttered table that had fallen victim to Julian’s research. “Are you planning to go all day in this state?”

Julian looked up to find blue eyes examining his face intently. Scowling, he turned away from Garak’s scrutiny. “I’m fine. I don’t need much sleep.” Really, he doubted he looked _too_ terrible. The bags under his eyes might be a little deeper than normal, but that hardly mattered.

“Odd,” Garak mused, tilting his head in that way he did when he was making a show of contemplating. “If I remember your lectures correctly, the average Cardassian needs six hours of sleep, and the average Human eight. Are you the exception?”

Julian’s fingers stilled over the controls. Damnit, he really shouldn’t have said that. Perhaps he _did_ need some sleep.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he let out a sigh. If only it were that simple. If only a hundred questions didn’t assault his mind the moment it became unoccupied, wondering how this could have happened, and what had become of Rugal? “I can’t sleep,” he admitted softly, eyes fixed on the console screen. “I would be more useful here than staring at a ceiling.” Besides, there were always more tests and research to be done.

A beat, then a hand pressed gently on Julian’s shoulder. “I know it’s upsetting, my dear…” Garak murmured.

Turning to face his friend, Julian was bothered by the serene mask he found. “How can _you_ sleep?” he asked, genuinely confused. Garak was a master at concealing his emotions, but even he must feel something at this turn of events. “Those are _your_ people out there massacring each other. Have you no compassion?”

Garak frowned, withdrawing his hand from Julian’s shoulder. “Compassion is an expensive emotion to have in our line of work, I’m afraid.”

Furrows played upon Julian’s forehead, his shoulders rising with tension. “Well I’m not going to – ”

Heaving an impatient sigh, Garak raised a hand to interrupt his rant. “We can continue this conversation with you on a biobed. I know how my arguments tend to put you to sleep, and for once I won’t mind.” A smile had reappeared on his face, softening his features.

Julian rolled his eyes, ready to point out how inaccurate that statement was, how Garak’s arguments did nothing but rile him up, when another yawn broke free. Garak answered with an eyebrow raised in smug satisfaction, looking unwilling to move anytime soon. He had no choice but to give in now – he could hardly do any work with an overly concerned Cardassian underfoot.

Perhaps it was for the best. He really didn’t have the energy to discuss this further right now. “All right, you win,” he sighed, raising his hands in defeat.

As Garak guided Julian to the room Telma had offered him as quarters for the night, the Cardassian kept a steady hand on his back, as if such contact was commonplace between them. Perhaps he didn’t think Julian was in a state to notice. Really, Julian was half surprised that with his luck, he wasn’t required to share a room with Garak. There was no way he would get any sleep then.

Julian was a little relieved to put distance between them when they arrived at his designated room. But as he stood by the narrow biobed that he was expected sleep on, he found Garak in no hurry to leave.

“Okay, I’m here,” Julian said, gesturing a little awkwardly toward the door. Garak only blinked, refusing to take the hint. “You can leave now.”

But Garak remained where he stood, regarding Julian with a stubborn glint in his eyes. “Not until you lie down.”

Julian groaned a little dramatically, but not even his exasperated glare was enough to dissuade Garak. Begrudgingly he relented, flopping gracelessly on the partially inclined bed. “Okay, I’m lying down,” he said, folding his arms across his chest. “Happy?”

But instead of turning to leave, Garak only came closer, fiddling with the nearby supply cart before draping a thin sheet over Julian.

As Garak tucked the blanket tightly around his body, Julian tensed up, trying to avoid the ticklish brushes of Garak’s hand near his ribs. “You’re ridiculous,” he protested, struggling to keep the laughter from his voice. “I’m not going to run.”

“I’m simply returning the favor, my dear,” Garak said, all business-like as he secured the end of the blanket around Julian’s feet.

Julian let out a breath, no longer in danger of being tickled. It was a little strange looking up at Garak from a biobed – it was usually the other way around. It almost felt vulnerable.

Once Garak had finished fussing with the sheets, he stepped back to admire his work. The blanket enveloped Julian like a straitjacket, not a wrinkle to be seen.

Julian met his gaze with a frown, feeling a little ridiculous in his thin but tightly-pulled shroud. “What, no bedtime story?” he asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Garak’s smile grew as he considered the prospect, eyes shimmering with amusement. “A tempting offer,” he mused. “Unfortunately I don’t happen to have any literature on me.”

“How tragic,” Julian lamented, though his voice sounded anything but. “ _The Never-Ending Sacrifice_ would have put me to sleep straightaway.” He gazed up at Garak with a cheeky grin, feeling almost like a mischievous child who was annoying for the fun of it. But really, this was mild compared to how insufferable Garak could be.

Rolling his eyes dramatically, Garak grabbed the blanket and pulled it up over Julian’s face, muffling any further insults to his favorite literature. “Goodnight, Sid.”

Julian pushed down the blanket in time to glare at Garak’s back as he disappeared through the door. Finally alone, he was tempted to kick off the sheets that had been so meticulously tucked around him, but he paused. Perhaps it wasn’t too uncomfortable – he would just loosen them so they were less suffocating.

Alone with his thoughts, he stared up at the sterile ceiling and listened to far-off sounds of the end of the nightshift. The muffled voices and unidentified clanging became the soundtrack to his whirling thoughts, questioning and analyzing what Garak had done. He really should have been used to Garak’s actions making little sense, but this one was particularly baffling. Why, after he had seemed to push Julian away, was he being so…tender? No, tender wasn’t a word that suited Garak. Whatever it was, it actually seemed like Garak, in his guarded and ironic way, was concerned about his wellbeing. And Garak’s use of endearments hadn’t slipped by him.  But as much as that should have thrilled him, doubts had already been planted. He just couldn’t be certain about Garak’s intentions anymore.

Well, he doubted he’d be able to sleep now that he had Garak’s strange warmth to occupy his mind, but at the moment it was a welcome distraction.

 

* * *

 

The alarm on his wrist comm came far too soon, rousing Julian from what must have been only an hour of sleep. He could handle it far better than most Humans, but that didn’t mean he felt like running a marathon. Pulling himself up, he rubbed his eyes and struggled to tuck an unruly curl behind his ear. His hair had grown quite a bit since he first arrived on Prime – that would take some getting used to.

Still, he couldn’t really complain about the accommodations. The biobed may have been even harder than his bed at the apartment, but at least he was in a temperature-controlled environment. This was the first time he had woken up on Prime not drenched in sweat, something his scrubs were grateful for. Even if the temperature had been less than tolerable, there was no way he would have slept naked. The room may not have a viewscreen, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t some sort of surveillance device tucked away.

He and Garak took their _gelat_ in his office before their shift began, preferring to watch the morning ‘casts where they could discuss them safely. Julian was especially interested to see how Rejal would handle this PR nightmare, what sorts of empty platitudes she would spout to make her barbarism more palatable to the public.

But no, the face who graced their screen that morning was not the chief executor, but some low level newscaster with a sickeningly calm demeanor. She was pleased to announce that order had been restored in Torr (how, though, she failed to mention). The city constabulary, she went on to explain, would be rolling out new safety initiatives to ensure continuing peace in the district.

Julian frowned as the ‘cast cut to the latest hound racing results, clearly finished with _that_ story. “That’s it?”

Unlike Julian, who was still standing in front of the viewscreen, Garak was content to sit comfortably at Julian’s research-littered table. “Were you expecting more?” he asked, warming his hands around his mug.

Julian set down his _gelat_ with a resigned sigh, shaking his head. “No, I suppose not.” Why would the State propaganda service bother mentioning trivial details like the number of arrests and fatalities, or how the whole bloody thing had started in the first place? If he wanted an explanation, it looked like he would have to turn to a _slightly_ more reliable source.

Garak said nothing as Julian called for Telma’s presence over the comm, sipping his _gelat_ audibly in the background.

Telma took a little longer than usual to arrive, prompting Julian to sift through his research impatiently until the door finally chimed. Once the doors had closed behind her, he cut straight to the chase.

“Thanks for the warning about Torr,” Julian said, grateful despite his mood. He didn’t want to think about what might have happened if they had been in the area. “I know there’s more to it than the ‘casts are saying. What really happened?”

The nurse removed her sanitary mask to reveal a smirk, features as vibrant as ever. It didn’t look like she had lost any sleep last night. “Well good morning to you too, Julian,” she drawled. “Don’t you ever just want to chat?”

As Julian was busy glaring irritably at her, Garak stood up and said, “Please excuse his manners. He’s operating on less than two hours of sleep.” Cupping a hand to his mouth, he added in a very audible whisper, “It’s best to humor him when he’s like this.”

Julian shifted his vexation to Garak, rolling his eyes. It seemed that Garak’s behavior had returned to normal, as much as the term “normal” could apply to whatever was between them.

When Julian looked back at his contact, he found an intrigued grin spreading across her features. “Oh? Long night?” she asked, quirking an eye ridge.

Garak took a step forward, placing himself directly beside Julian. “You’ll have to consult your surveillance, nurse,” he said, his smile belied by a terse tone.

Telma just chuckled, turning to Julian before he could object to the insinuation. “You’re right not to trust the ‘casts,” she said, her tone gaining a serious edge. “Rejal has already had her people put quite the spin on this, as I’m sure you’ve heard. Fortunately _I’ve_ heard a thing or two.” She leaned casually against the desk, folding her arms across her chest. “The dissidents had a large rally scheduled for yesterday evening, but Rejal only learned about it that morning.”

“Putting the Bureau _just_ a step ahead of Starfleet Intelligence, it seems,” Garak cut in, his mask nonchalant, his voice smooth.

Telma stopped her train of thought, turning to Garak with a curious grin. “And a step behind Garak?”

Julian’s eyes shot back to Garak, searching the impassive Human-like visage. Had he known this would happen?

Garak waved his hand dismissively, ignoring Julian’s questioning gaze. “It was more of an educated guess, really, based on surrounding circumstances,” he explained casually.

A corner of Telma’s mouth curled upward. “Quite a lucky guess,” she remarked, lifting her chin. Then she turned back to Julian, returning to the matter at hand. “Anyway, the plan was to march from the technical school to the Central Market where they would listen to speakers call for elections and the return of Tekeny Ghemor. They were largely peaceful.”

“As peaceful as a mob of twenty thousand can be,” Garak observed.

A little shocked by what those words seemed to imply, Julian turned a critical gaze on Garak. “Tell me you’re not _blaming_ them for the massacre,” he said, frowning deeply.

Garak held Julian’s gaze intently, the tension palpable between them. “No, my dear Doctor, I am not,” he clarified. “But they had to know a gathering on that scale would cause quite a stir.”

“Well whatever their intention,” Telma cut in before an argument could break out. “They were stopped slightly east of the technical school by Dukat’s task force, insisting they disperse. They refused, and well, you’ve seen the rest.”

Julian’s jaw tensed as he took a moment to chew on the information. “So Regnok’s bill passed,” he concluded, looking back at his contact. “Why didn’t I see anything about it on Dukat’s console?”

“From what I’ve gathered, it only passed yesterday morning,” Telma explained, straightening up and moving away from the door. “There’s hasn’t been an official announcement yet.”

“There has now,” Garak observed darkly.

Julian folded his arms across his chest, lifting a hand to stroke his lightly stubbled jaw. He really couldn’t wait to get home and shave, but he pushed that thought aside as he tried to make sense of Rejal’s actions. “What I don’t understand is why Rejal had to use a military task force to stop the rally,” he remarked. “Why not the city constabularies?”

“Rejal doesn’t seem to trust the city constabularies,” Telma answered with a shrug. “She’s paranoid that they’re still loyal to the Order. It was probably a choice between the lesser of two evils in her mind.”

Julian sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. A political assassination, now this…He had always known about Cardassia’s corruption in theory, but it was becoming all too real.

Garak’s voice shook him from his thoughts. “Say what you will about the Order’s tactics, but interrogations are never _quite_ as messy.”

As much as Julian wanted to find fault in Garak’s defense of his former employer, he did have a point. Both options were bad, but at least with arrests and interrogations there was some chance you might make it out alive. It was harder to survive disruptor fire.

“As I’m sure you’re familiar with,” Garak added after a beat. Looking up, Julian found a hint of smugness curling his friend’s lips.

Telma returned the expression with a smile of her own, her eyes twinkling in challenge. “I’ll have to defer to you on that one,” she said, lacing her fingers together. “I can’t say I’ve had as _extensive_ experience with it.”

“Really?” Garak quirked an eyebrow, holding her gaze intently. “I’d be fascinated to hear what tactics Starfleet Intelligence prefers.”

Julian eyed the two warily, wringing his hands together. No matter how massive their egos might be, they should know better than to discuss such things here. There might not be active surveillance in his office, but there were other ways someone might eavesdrop.

Telma was now looking rather blandly at Garak, as if the conversation bored her. “I’d be happy to swap tricks of the trade with you, but I have a colonoscopy to assist in fifteen metrics.” She turned back to Julian perhaps a little too quickly. “You’re going to see a few changes in Torr now. Luckily for you, I know a way around them.”

 

* * *

 

Telma hadn’t been exaggerating when she said there would be changes. Julian and Garak had only been cooped up inside the hospital for a couple days, but when they stepped onto the shuttle the difference was palpable.

Everyone avoided their eyes as they made their way to the back, only a few cautious whispers breaking the silence. It was a natural reaction to such an alarming incident, as if everyone was afraid that one misspoken word might be their downfall. They were all obedient bureaucrats, after all, nothing like those miscreants in Torr. Eyeing his silent companion, Julian wondered if this was how Cardassia City used to be in the days of the Obsidian Order.

The next major change came when they arrived at the border between Tarlak and Torr, but luckily they were prepared for this. The shuttle stopped for a mandatory spot check, two constables boarding to scan the passengers’ identity rods. When they stopped beside Julian and Garak’s seat, Julian handed him a rod with Parmak’s access code, granting the Human doctor and nurse free passage between Central Hospital and their Torr tenement. A fast pass, Telma had called it. Anyone who was important enough had one, but they usually weren’t going in and out of Torr on a regular basis. Julian held his breath as the constables scanned the rod, but then they handed it back and moved along.  

Once the shuttle was back in motion, Julian’s gaze wandered out the window. There was a thick, gray cloud cover stretched over the sky, casting a fitting gloom over the district. The walkways of Torr were usually teeming with pedestrians at this hour, but now there were only a few people hurrying along, keeping their heads down. Police skimmers lined the street. Then they passed a few more blocks and the area was practically deserted, pieces of debris scattered across the sidewalk. The shuttle passed quickly through this neighborhood, but not before Julian caught a glimpse of a large disruptor burn on the side of a building. A few doors down there stood only the scorched remains of a structure.

Foot traffic picked up once they were in East Torr, but it was still considerably less than normal. Everyone seemed to be moving with clear purpose – no one was just standing around talking, enjoying the day. And then there was –

Julian’s observations were interrupted by a sudden voice. Eyes shooting up, he found that the viewscreen at the front of the shuttle had flashed on and some sort of infomercial was playing. A calm, smiling Cardassian was explaining the new “safety initiatives” that the morning ‘casts had failed to describe. There would be a curfew now – only in Torr – enforced between eleventh bell at night and fifth bell in the morning.

Julian frowned. That might complicate things in the future.

When they finally made it to their shuttle stop, they observed the rest of the changes on foot. It looked like the dissidents’ favorite _geleta_ shop was nearly empty, only a few silhouettes visible through its dark windows. Julian was a little surprised the place hadn’t been shut down entirely, but perhaps the constabularies or the Bureau or whoever was handling this hadn’t been able to connect it to the dissidents. If there were any dissidents left, they were probably lying low – there wasn’t a broadsheet in sight.

They set a brisk pace back to the apartment, Julian’s gaze flittering all around from behind his dust mask. He saw no sign of Rugal.

The evening passed as it usually did these days, in relative silence as they immersed themselves in research. Garak was seated at the console, running another algorithm to test codes in the systems he was still trying to access, while Julian lounged on the couch skimming padds that were loaded with new files from Dukat’s computer. By the time Julian’s stomach started growling, dinner was a welcome interruption.

A home-replicated meal was quite refreshing after the meager food they had eaten at the hospital, and they had saved enough credits for quite a nice one. Garak chose all the dishes, promising that Julian would enjoy the spice of the _jila_ fish and the tang of _ahn_ leaves. And to Julian’s pleasant surprise, he was right.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, taking the time to enjoy their food, when Julian’s mind began drifting back to the past few days. In no mood to discuss that just yet, he scrubbed at his eyes. Genetically enhanced or not, all this research was starting to affect him.

“You know, I wasn’t expecting there to be quite this much desk work,” he mentioned conversationally, lifting his fork.

Garak met his gaze over a glass of _rokassa_ juice. “Oh?” he asked, setting down the beverage after a sip. “What were you expecting?”

Julian poked at his fish contemplatively. “I don’t know…” he mused as scenes from his favorite holonovels filled his mind. He described the tropes as they came to him, ticking them off on his fingers. “More action, for one. Narrow escapes from dire situations, infiltrating the villain’s lair, faking my own death, _femmes fatales_ …”

“ _Femmes fatales_?” Garak stopped him, repeating the foreign words carefully. “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that term.” His head was tilted in curiosity, his lips slightly parted.

“They’re beautiful women who try to seduce the spy, usually to bring about his downfall.”

“Ah,” Garak nodded. He took a moment to enjoy his greens, contemplation etched on his features. “Is the _femme fatale_ always a woman?” he asked at length.

Julian chewed on a bite of fish, considering the question. “Well no, I don’t suppose they have to be,” he replied. “The male version would be called an _homme fatale_.” He scanned the Cardassian’s face cautiously, wondering where he might be going with this.

Garak’s response was a noncommittal grunt as he took another sip of _rokassa_ juice, unaffected by Julian’s gaze. “I think you’ve read too many of those ridiculous Earth spy novels,” he remarked, a sardonic smile twisting his lips. “They hardly paint an accurate picture of this profession. Yes, there is some of what you mentioned…at times. But this sort of work is much more common, especially for low level operatives.”

Julian sighed into his plate. At this point he didn’t need Garak to tell him that. Still, after getting a taste of excitement – and of failure – it was difficult to go back to sifting through hours of useless information. “I know. It was my own fault for having such expectations,” he admitted, lifting his fork for another bite.

Though Julian half expected Garak to respond with some snarky praise for the slow death of Julian’s idealism, his features grew serious. “Even if you don’t find this very exciting, you mustn’t grow careless,” he stressed, eyeing Julian intently. “We have to stay vigilant, especially now with the increased police presence.”

With that Julian’s thoughts returned to the protest. He knew it was useless to dwell on it when there was nothing he could do, when it only stirred guilt at his failure to stop Dukat, but the thoughts kept circling through his mind. As far as he knew, the dissidents hadn’t learned the truth about Pa’Dar’s death, but they marched anyway. He couldn’t be blamed for that. Still, if Dukat hadn’t regained policing power in the first place…

Maybe Garak was used to such horrors, but it wasn’t something that Julian could brush past quickly. “You know, I used to think Rejal might be different than her predecessors,” he expressed, pushing the _ahn_ leaves around on his plate. “Not an advocate for democracy, of course, but I didn’t think she’d open fire on civilians.”

Garak’s lips pulled into a frown. “She shouldn’t have allowed it to escalate this far,” he observed grimly.

Julian set down his fork, no longer feeling very hungry. “But surely her advisors couldn’t have condoned this,” he said, brow wrinkling in bemusement. “Kotan Pa’Dar couldn’t have been the only sane one on the Council! What about Alon Ghemor? You said he was clever. Doesn’t he realize the power this gives Dukat?”

There was a pause as Garak dabbed his lips with a napkin. Though his demeanor remained characteristically opaque, Julian noticed a strange darkness in his eyes. “Alon Ghemor has chosen his side,” Garak stated definitively. “That became clear when he refused to examine the evidence as the head of an intelligence agency should.”

“Well I doubt Rejal let anyone else see the recording if she was so intent on trusting Dukat…” Julian’s voice trailed away, eyes suddenly locking onto Garak. Strange…It was quite rare for the tailor to state something with such certainty, not a hint of irony dancing in his voice. “Unless Ghemor received it another way…”

Garak returned Julian’s scrutiny with an unconcerned half-smile.  

“You sent it to him.”

The quirk of Garak’s lips bloomed into a full smile, as if it actually pleased him to be discovered. “You needn’t worry, Doctor,” he assured Julian. “He won’t be able to trace it back to me, I made sure of that.” Eyeing Julian’s frown, he added, “I thought it best to send him a copy directly, in case the recording never made it past Rejal’s eyes…or got there at all.”

Julian didn’t respond immediately, mulling over the new information while studying his friend’s latest mask. This changed things – well, it _could_ have changed things. Not to mention it further proved his suspicions...

“And nothing?” he asked at length.

“It seems I overestimated his loyalty to Pa’Dar,” Garak replied, shaking his head.

Julian’s gaze remained fixed upon the Cardassian spy, frustration quickly starting to rise inside of him. Really, it wasn’t Garak’s fault that his plan had failed, but it would have been nice to know that he _had_ another backup plan, especially when all of Julian’s ideas were falling apart. “Well I would have appreciated being kept in the loop,” he said, doing little to hide his vexation.

The expression on Garak’s face could have hardly been considered contrite – if anything, he looked confused by Julian’s reaction. “Perhaps, but why raise your hopes needlessly?” he asked, tilting his head. “You do have a tendency to sulk when things don’t turn out as you’d like.”

As true as that comment might be, Julian was in no mood to hear it. “Because we’re supposed to be partners, Garak!” he exclaimed, flattening his palms on the table. His words seemed to echo in the silence, emphasizing the force of his outburst. He took a moment to regain his composure. “I know how much you love your secrets, but if it pertains to this assignment then I have the right to know,” he said, his tone calmer but still earnest.

Garak sat back in his chair, scanning Julian’s face as he considered his words. “Very well,” he decided after a moment. “I will consult you going forward.” He speared a piece of fish and continued eating.

Julian blinked, his eyebrows scrunching together. “Really?”

Garak lowered the fork that was near his mouth, raising his eyebrows. “You seem so surprised,” he observed.

Though Julian would have liked to claim great expertise with Garak’s mannerisms, it was still quite difficult to determine _just_ how accurate his statements were. His features weren’t revealing anything but his usual distant amusement. “I wasn’t expecting you to agree, at least not without a speech about how I’m a liability,” Julian replied.

“I assure you, my dear, I have nothing to hide.”

All right, now _that_ was a complete lie. If anything, the smoothness of his voice and the twinkle in his eye confirmed it. But was it worth calling his bluff? It might be risky, but Garak _had_ just admitted to a clandestine act. Perhaps the Cardassian was feeling uncharacteristically generous today. It wasn’t as if Julian’s scans of the console had been much help lately anyway.

“Really?” Julian asked, picking up his fork with casual ease. He was in control of the conversation now. “Then perhaps you’d like to explain why I found the fragments of a strange transmission on our console – something about purchasing a difficult to procure item?”

Julian waited a moment as he gazed down at his plate, anticipating Garak’s reaction. He would be shocked, hopefully, but anger was also likely. What if this really changed things between them, put an irrevocable strain on their relationship? Perhaps he shouldn’t have said anything…But no, this had been bothering him for quite some time. Maybe he’d finally learn the truth.

Lifting his gaze, he found Garak smiling brightly at him.

“My dear Doctor, I must say I’m impressed that you know that,” the Cardassian expressed, his eyes twinkling with delight. “It seems my advice hasn’t been falling on deaf ears after all.”

Julian’s mouth fell partially open as he scanned the Cardassian’s mask, all pleasant amusement. Was that _really_ how he felt about being spied upon? Pride in his distrustful protégé?

Garak raised his hand before Julian could speak. “But I’m afraid the truth is rather uninteresting. I needed a part to modify that personal comm you saw me use, in order to hack surveillance. When I found I couldn’t replicate one, I had no choice but to contact an old associate. He didn’t recognize me, of course, but he was happy to do business.”

It was strange how a smile, so often used to disarm, only raised Julian’s suspicions now. Not only was he unsure if he could trust Garak’s explanation, but how was Garak so unperturbed by Julian spying on him? Had this _thing_ – it didn’t have a name, but he knew Garak was aware of it too – changed nothing between them, that Garak still needed to keep him at such a distance? If there had been raised voices and an impassioned argument, then at least that would have meant something, that perhaps Garak cared about how Julian viewed him. This indifference…well, he didn’t know what to make of it.

 “I see,” Julian said brusquely. “Well it’s a lucky thing you still have associates on Prime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw the DS9 documentary this week and I have mixed feelings. I loved every part Andy was in (and the ASIT cameo in one of his shots) and that Ira acknowledged Garak's sexuality. But after saying that they maybe should have done something with Garak and Bashir's relationship, why have [spoilers] Bashir married to Ezri in the hypothetical season 8? It's just so cliche and it kinda ruined the whole open ended thing about Julian's relationship that made me hopeful for Garashir. But at least Garashir still lives in fanfiction, right?
> 
> Tune in next week for a visit to the free hospital, a familiar face, and a glimpse.


	18. Wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parmak takes Julian and Garak to visit the free hospital in Torr.

The end of their shift found Julian in a rather pleasant mood as he and Garak prepared to go home, tidying up his office after a day of tests and research. Julian’s patients were showing some improvement after receiving his most recently modified treatment, raising hopes that he might finally be on to something. Even the promise of an evening in front of the console couldn’t dampen his satisfaction at a day well spent.

They were nearly ready to leave when Dr. Parmak stopped by Julian’s office, his face far brighter than the last time he had visited at that hour.

“I’m on my way to deliver surplus plague vaccines to the free hospital in Torr,” Parmak explained after the usual greetings. “And I thought you might like to join me.”

Balancing a stack of padds in one arm and his medkit in the other, Julian was about to reply when Garak turned to him with a knowing grin.

“There go our evening plans, Sid.”

With that decided, they followed Parmak to his personal skimmer in the back lot. Glancing over at Garak, Julian was a little surprised that he had agreed to this diversion when their “important work” was at home, but he couldn’t complain. He had been curious about the free hospital in West Torr for quite a while now, and perhaps Garak, for another reason, was too.

Garak opened the passenger door of Parmak’s skimmer with an annoying amount of courtesy as he ushered his friend inside, causing Julian to roll his eyes. Garak had always played the overly amiable nurse at work, a persona quite similar to his plain, simple tailor, but today the façade seemed especially irritating. Perhaps it was because Julian finally recognized how false that guise was, still frustrated with yesterday’s realization.

Once Garak had slid into the back beside the cases of vaccines, they started on their way. Progress through Tarlak turned out to be quite slow as thousands of bureaucrats crowded the streets in their skimmers, returning to their comfortable homes in Paldar or Coranum. Stuck in traffic, the three quickly fell into conversation.

“I didn’t know Central donated surplus vaccines to the free hospital,” Julian remarked, pleasantly surprised. Perhaps he had judged Central Hospital’s elitism a little too harshly.

Parmak fiddled with the temperature controls as he replied, “Officially we don’t, but a few of us have started taking them anyway – only when we have a significant daily surplus, of course. But it’s about time some of the more vulnerable in our community were inoculated.” He glanced sidelong at Julian, his smile dimming. “You’ll keep this between us, I hope? With…well, with Pa’Dar gone from the Science Ministry, there have been talks of clamping down on hospitals found bending regulations.”

A small smile touched Julian’s features. It seemed his hunch about Dr. Parmak was right after all – though constrained by the system, he did what he could to aid the less fortunate. It was encouraging to know that people like him existed on Cardassia. “Of course,” he promised. But there were others he couldn’t be too certain of…He glanced back at Garak.

Garak’s features were plastered with innocence. “Well don’t worry about me, Sid. I am the soul of discretion.”

Not entirely convinced, Julian frowned and sat back in his seat.

“Thank you,” Parmak expressed, his voice full of gratitude. “Something tells me these vaccines will be quite welcome, considering how overstretched they’ve been over there. There’s been a massive increase in patients after…” Parmak’s voice trailed off.

Gazing over at the Cardassian doctor, Julian found disquietude etched upon his ridged brow, his jaw clenched and his eyes faced staunchly forward. “The massacre?” Julian guessed solemnly.

A hand slammed on top of the control console, its sudden thud reverbing inside the skimmer. “Damn that woman!” Parmak hissed, anger and sorrow flickering in his eyes. “Meya Rejal is many things, but a murderous despot?…I never thought she was capable of that.” Heaving a sigh, the fire slowly drained from his body as he returned his attention to the accelerating traffic.

Julian was silent for a moment, startled by the uncharacteristic outburst. It was obvious how deeply the tragedy affected Parmak, and quite nice to see it openly displayed. He didn’t doubt that Garak was likewise affected – he wouldn’t bother with their friendship if he thought Garak was _completely_ heartless – but it was nice to see someone so open with his emotions. Still, after the last few days Julian found his own emotions growing quite weary. And openness was not something he could afford anymore, even if the doctor seemed harmless. “We were shocked when we heard about it on the ‘casts,” he said at length, schooling his voice into respectful gravity.

“Things seemed unstable, but I don’t think anyone was expecting something so explosive,” Garak added, his voice equally solemn and controlled.

Parmak shook his head, his features returning to a semblance of their normal composure. “Yes, well, at least you two were out of harm’s way,” he observed, a little bit of optimism back in his tone. “It was a lucky thing the replicators broke down when they did, hm?”

The conversation returned to lighter topics after that, Julian taking the opportunity to ask about the hospital they were visiting. It was a good thing, too, because the massacre was not something to be caught discussing when they were stopped for a spot check on Torr’s border.

Once Parmak had flashed his fast pass they were allowed on their way, the traffic growing much lighter inside the Torr sector. They continued in their previous conversation, Parmak describing the troubles facing the understaffed and under-resourced hospital.

“I’m not too sure you should have brought Sid along,” Garak chimed in after Parmak had mentioned the hospital’s patient to doctor ratio. “You might never get him back at Central. He has a habit of trying to save everyone, I’m afraid. Even when I first met him at the Academy he was always working. I don’t think he ever slept.”

Though Garak’s words were spoken with affectionate teasing, Julian still found himself irritated. “That’s a bit of an exaggeration, Andy,” he returned. “But then you never could resist the chance to embellish.” He looked over his shoulder, gazing pointedly at his friend in the back seat.

Parmak seemed quite intrigued by their exchange, remarking, “It sounds like there’s a story behind this.”

Garak met Julian’s stare evenly, his trademark smile unwavering. “Oh, there are many stories, Dr. Parmak,” he said, his voice dancing with mystery. “Which would you like to hear?”

“Why not start at the beginning?” Parmak suggested with a shrug. “How did you two meet?”

As he turned back to face the front, Julian’s mind started computing in double time, cursing himself for not having something planned. According to their undercover profiles, they had met at the London Medical Academy, but somehow he hadn’t put much thought into a “how I met my dear friend Andy” story. Luckily for him, his partner was the master of stories.

“Sid was in one of the classes I assisted – you were in your second year, I believe?” He waited for Julian’s nod before continuing. “A brilliant young man, if not a little arrogant, but with such talent that could be forgiven.”

Arrogant? As if Garak was one to talk. Julian bristled at the comment but allowed it to pass.

“Well one day I was trying to find a seat at lunch when I noticed Sid sitting by himself in the cafeteria, poring over some textbooks,” Garak continued in that melodic storytelling voice he sometimes used. “So I sat down across from him and introduced myself. We soon found that we had similar tastes in literature – though not so similar as to be uninteresting – which led to many stimulating lunchtime discussions.” He chuckled. “And here we are now.” There was a pause before he added in mild exasperation, “Though perhaps I would have exercised more caution if I had known Sid would whisk me away on his grand adventures.” 

Parmak glanced sidelong at Julian, his grin a little conspiratorial. “Well, how embellished was that, Dr. El Fadil?” he asked.

Julian shrugged, trying to conceal his irritation behind a casual demeanor. “It’s true enough…Though I never thought I’d hear Andy admit to lacking caution, seeing how he prides himself on his wariness.” Though he would have liked to see Garak’s reaction to that statement, he kept his eyes fixed firmly on the road.

“Well, my dear,” Garak began, his tone perfectly polite. “You must admit it is far wiser to err on the side of caution than recklessness. Wouldn’t you agree, Dr. Parmak?”

Parmak, seeming surprised to be suddenly included, considered the question for a moment. “I’m afraid I can’t speak on the current topic without knowing some context,” he answered carefully. “But in general I find a balanced approach the most effective. Yes, caution will keep you alive in some situations, but a strict adherence to it is not always the best way of living. I think far too many of my people don’t realize that. We’ve always had a strong preoccupation with self-preservation.”

It was quite refreshing to hear Julian’s own opinions uttered by a Cardassian tongue, but he was currently too focused on another objective. “Too much caution and mistrust can prevent you from experiencing some of life’s deeper pleasures,” Julian pressed, keeping his voice as even as possible.

“Ah, but such pleasures are often fleeting and can lead to disastrous consequences.”

Julian couldn’t keep his gaze off Garak any longer. Looking over his shoulder, he found gleaming blue eyes fixed unapologetically on him, a reptilian smile impervious to the daggers Julian was glaring. Julian turned back with a huff, quite certain what Garak was referring to.

Parmak’s pacifying voice cut through the tension that was quickly growing evident. “Well I for one am glad you two took the risk in coming here, though the conditions may not be the most hospitable. You’ve been a tremendous help to the hospital.”

 

* * *

 

Torr’s hospital looked quite small indeed when compared to the polished heights of Central Hospital. The building, only three stories tall, was an old, narrow structure nestled in between similarly compact buildings, giving little room for walkways around it. There was only one skimmer park in the back, quite small and packed with dilapidated vehicles. That was probably not the biggest of their concerns, as Julian figured many of the hospital’s patients didn’t own a skimmer.

Once inside, they found themselves in a small, crowded foyer, every chair and corner occupied by patients. It was much louder than even the busiest of Central Hospital’s waiting areas, coughs and crying babies intermingling with the murmuring of restless patients. Some were wearing sanitary masks, but others were not.

They slipped on their sanitary masks and proceeded to the front desk.

The nurse at the front desk seemed as overwhelmed as one would expect, juggling padds and comm lines with little time to breathe. But when her eyes landed on Dr. Parmak, they immediately brightened. She stepped slightly to the side, allowing another nurse to take over for a moment.

They all exchanged pleasantries, Parmak introducing his Human companions as he set the cases of vaccines on the counter. Once the nurse had relayed her sincere gratitude, Parmak asked, “How is everyone holding up?”

“It’s been a little hectic these days,” the nurse answered, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear ridge. “We’re doing our best with the staff we have, but today’s been especially busy.” She glanced over at her colleague, the poor man obviously struggling to handle the long line of impatient Cardassians.

Taking another look around the room, Julian opened his mouth before his mind could intervene. “I’d be happy to help if you need a few extra hands.”

“Oh, that would be most welcome,” the nurse replied, relief washing over her eyes. “We could certainly use the help.”

Parmak glanced at his wrist comm before turning to Julian. “I’m afraid I have to get going, but you’re of course welcome to stay,” he told him.

Remembering that he had another person to consider, Julian shifted his gaze to Garak. Whatever his friend really felt about the matter was concealed by pleasant, opaque eyes.

“It looks like I’ve just been volunteered,” Garak said with a chuckle.

Pleased by their decision, Parmak exchanged a few friendly words of parting before wishing the nurse well and turning towards the exit. He had only made it a few steps before he suddenly turned back to the front desk.

“Is that Pa’Dar’s son?” Parmak asked.

 _Rugal_. Immediately Julian followed Parmak’s gaze, and sure enough, there was Rugal Pa’Dar at the other end of the room, standing with a group of nurses near a side door. A wave of relief washed over Julian as his worries were put to rest. Rugal had not been lost in the massacre after all. In fact, he looked quite healthy from this distance.

But then Julian noticed Rugal’s trajectory and froze, his stomach clenching into a tight ball. He glanced around frantically, searching for any way out, but all of the escape routes were blocked by bodies. There was nowhere to hide. In just a moment, everything could end.

Drawing a breath, he realized that running was not the best idea – it would probably just draw more attention to himself. He would just have to act inconspicuous and hope that Rugal would pass him by. Suppressing his panic, he adjusted his mask and glanced over to find Garak eyeing Rugal with perfect composure.

“Yes, that’s Rugal,” the nurse answered, her voice drawing Julian from his thoughts. “He’s been working here for a while now and just recently became an auxiliary nurse.”

But as fate would have it, Rugal would not just pass them by. As Julian was trying his best to ignore the thumping pulse in his ears, Parmak decided it was the perfect time to pull the Cardassian boy aside and relay his deepest sympathies.

Now he was really trapped. Inching to the left, Julian tried to position himself behind Parmak, but the counter stopped him from getting far. Left with no other options, he forced his features into neutrality and stared indifferently ahead, ears honed on the conversation taking place before him. He kept his hands hidden in his pockets lest their fidgeting betray his anxiety.

Parmak expressed his sympathy in plain and compassionate terms, explaining how he had known the late Kotan Pa’Dar. Julian didn’t know what he had been expecting to see in Rugal’s eyes, but it was difficult to see much beyond the hollow shells. His face was half-covered by a sanitary mask, rendering it nearly unreadable. Rugal listened politely, nodding a few times, but said nothing.

Then their eyes met. Julian inhaled softly, panic threatening to take hold, but then Rugal’s gaze drifted away. There was no recognition in his eyes.

Slowly Julian began to relax, marveling at his extraordinary luck. Perhaps a sanitary mask, a longer haircut, and the passage of time was enough to make him unrecognizable to the Cardassian boy.

When he returned from his thoughts, he heard Parmak say, “I want you to know that my office is always open to you at Central Hospital.”

Rugal’s eyes seemed to suddenly shift into focus. “Yeah, because of who my father was,” he retorted, iciness seeping into his polite tone. “The people here are the ones who need treatment, Doctor.” He pointed a thumb over his shoulder, drawing attention to the mass of murmuring Cardassians in the foyer.

Parmak’s geniality faltered, a small sigh escaping his lips. “As I’ve been telling my superiors, but I’m afraid it’s not that simple.”

Creases were now visible between Rugal’s eye ridges, his gaze hardening. “Of course. It never is with you people.” Without giving Parmak a chance to respond, he walked away.

His spirits a little dampened, Parmak bade them all goodnight and took his leave. Julian was still mulling over the conversation, his heart going out to the obviously broken young man, when Rugal unexpectedly reappeared through a side door, a handful of padds in his arms.

It was a sudden impulse that pushed Julian in front of Rugal’s path.

“Excuse me, Rugal,” he said hastily, seeing that Rugal was trying to avoid him. “My name is Dr. El Fadil and I’m with the Federation civilian relief effort.”

“You’ll want to talk to Dr. Flekis,” Rugal answered indifferently, adjusting his grip on the padds. “She’s in charge of coordinating with the Federation doctors.” The boy’s gaze wandered to the right, focusing on something behind Julian.

Glancing over his shoulder, Julian found that Garak had joined them, his eyes bright with a smile.

Julian turned back to Rugal, a frown forming behind his mask. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry,” he said softly. He let one barrier fall away, allowing some of his guilt and disappointment to seep into his voice and play upon his brow. This had been weighing heavily on his mind since Pa’Dar’s death, but he never thought he would have the chance to express it.

When Rugal met his eyes, there was clear confusion behind them. His gaze narrowed slightly.

Damnit, perhaps he had said too much. Even with his enhanced intellect, Julian’s heart had a bad habit of running away with him. He took care to dial back his emotions as he elaborated. “I’ve been working on a cure for the Rudellian plague for a while now, and I only wish I could have done something to help your father.”

Though the room was bustling and noisy, the silence was thick between them as Rugal glanced at his feet. When he raised his gaze, his eyes were softer. “I didn’t see him at the end…” he began with a shrug. “But I don’t think he knew he was sick. He would have said something to me.”

 Julian nodded solemnly, keeping his surprise at Rugal’s candor to himself. “Well it’s my hope that soon no one will have to fear this damned plague anymore,” he said, holding the boy’s gaze with purpose. “We’re doing all we can to stop what killed your father.”

As Rugal’s attention was pulled to the hectic front desk, Julian felt Garak’s body draw nearer – it was a slight movement, but he noticed it.

Feeling the conversation reaching its conclusion, Julian thought it best to part with an offer. Looking around the room, there was probably much that a nurse who worked here needed. “If there’s ever anything I can do for you, anything you need…”

When Rugal’s eyes flicked back to Julian, a tired shadow had settled upon them. “You wouldn’t happen to have a way off this planet, would you?” he asked, his voice barely perceptible over the din. There was little hope in his tone.

Julian blinked. “No, I’m afraid not.”

“Then there’s nothing you can do for me, Doctor.” With that, Rugal walked away.

Before Julian had a moment to process Rugal’s words, Garak inserted himself at his side. A soft hiss escaped the man’s lips, drawing Julian’s attention. “Sid, would you mind taking a look at my hand?” he asked, offering said hand.

Brow furrowing, Julian donned his professional gaze as he brought Garak’s hand closer, examining it carefully. There didn’t seem to be anything visibly concerning. “What’s wrong with it?” he asked, running a finger over the thumb.

“It seems an old injury is acting up.”

Confused, Julian lifted his gaze to find two blue orbs shimmering with mischief. Rolling his eyes, he dropped Garak’s hand and took a step back. “Very funny, Andy.”

 

* * *

 

The free hospital operated quite differently from Central Hospital, Julian quickly learned. From all his experience at Starfleet Medical and Deep Space 9, he had never worked at a facility quite like this. The only thing comparable were the makeshift infirmaries he had to occasionally set up on away missions, relying heavily on his medkit.

He was quite glad for his medkit today. Every semi-functioning instrument was already in use by the overworked staff, and all their equipment was quite old and outdated. The few replicators they had could have definitely benefited from Miles’ magic touch.

The upper two stories were comprised mainly of large open wards lined with biobeds, cramming as many patients as possible into one space. Still, despite all that they lacked, they were remarkably efficient, moving from patient to patient like an assembly line. Perhaps it wasn’t the best bedside manner, but under these circumstances they had no other choice.  

Their patients were admitted for many different reasons, including quite a few cases of yatik fever, but the predominant affliction was phaser burns. These were what Julian and Garak were assigned to treat.

When they were first ushered into a room on the third floor, they ran into a few Federation doctors and nurses they had met on the transport. Though Julian was curious to hear how they were faring among Cardassians, there was little time to chat. Once the work began, they were constantly on their feet, treating one patient after another as more and more seemed to keep coming.  But at least with such a taxing workload, there wasn’t much time to contemplate the reason behind these wounds.

Some of the patients were in worse shape than others. There were those who had been lucky, receiving only mild burns to an arm or a leg. But there were also less fortunate patients whose burns were severe and infected, usually requiring amputation of a limb. Then there were a few post-op amputees who were rushed back to the hospital after contracting serious infections. And then there were those who had been lying in the hospital for days now, fighting their critical injuries until at last they succumbed. Perhaps if they had access to better care, they would have survived.

But as unpleasant as those cases might be, they were to be expected. Julian could handle those. It was the children who threatened to crack his distant, professional shell. There were far too many children suffering from phaser burns. One girl, probably no older than eight, had lost half her face to a disruptor blast.

Sometimes as Julian worked he would fall into conversation with his patients, particularly if they seemed inclined to chat. He even ventured to make subtle inquiries about the rally – not blatant questions like “were you fired upon unprovoked?” but simple ones like “just how did this particular injury occur?” But no one went into much detail, a shadow of fear passing over their dead eyes. So Julian stopped prying, keeping conversations limited to light chatter.

Then, as he was examining a young woman’s burnt shoulder, she asked, “You’re from the Federation, aren’t you?”

Julian looked up from his tricorder readings, studying the girl. She was about his age, maybe a year or two younger. There seemed to be something a little different about her from the other patients he had seen. Perhaps it was her eyes – there was still something left inside them. “What gave it away?” he asked with a chuckle.

The woman smiled weakly at his joke, her face free from any sanitary mask. The hospital’s supply had run out just an hour ago. She remained silent for a moment, eyes focused on a far off point.

“What’s it like living in a democracy?” she asked at length, her voice soft but surprisingly steady.

Julian opened his mouth to respond, but then paused, chewing the inside of his cheek. The pained moans that filled the ward seemed distant as he began running the dermal regenerator over the patient’s shoulder, taking a moment to consider his words. He couldn’t say what he really thought, not here. Even though his views were to be expected of a Federation citizen, he couldn’t glowingly endorse democracy to a dissident who had been fired upon for desiring the same. That was bound to draw suspicions – he might as well just paint a target on his back. The last thing he needed was the Cardassian government accusing him of indoctrination.

“Well, it’s not without its own challenges,” Julian said after a moment. “But overall I believe it’s worked well for us.” He kept his voice low and indifferent as he focused on his work.

It seemed like the woman wanted to say more, but she held her tongue and lowered her head. Silence ensued as Julian continued hovering the regenerator over her damaged skin, taking extra care due to the burn’s severity. After a moment, the woman raised her gaze from her lap, glancing furtively around the ward.

“We always meant for the rally to be peaceful,” she said, her words soft but intent. She hardly winced as Julian ran the regenerator over the worst section of her injury. “There may have been a few in the crowd looking to stir up trouble, but they didn’t represent the movement.” As her voice dropped to nearly a whisper, the spark seemed to disappear from her eyes. “We were just tired. Tired of all the false promises. This was supposed to be the people’s government.” Raising her head, she caught Julian’s eyes. “Why did they turn on us?”

A deep frown formed behind the safety of Julian’s mask. He turned away, reaching for his tricorder to verify the dermal regenerator’s effectiveness. The silence between them was pregnant, his mind grasping for an appropriate but safe answer.

At length he shrugged, flipping the tricorder shut. “Fear is a powerful thing, I suppose.”

Fortunately that woman turned out to be Julian’s only bold patient. After she left, the topic of democracy didn’t come up again.

By the time his wrist comm announced tenth bell, Julian was thoroughly exhausted. When he met up with Garak, who had spent most of the evening assisting at the other end of the ward, he looked quite in the same state. Neither said a word as they followed the stairs to the ground floor, their footsteps echoing in the rickety stairwell.

They found the foyer substantially less crowded now, but with less than an hour before curfew, that was to be expected. There were only a few stragglers still hanging around, hoping to be admitted into the hospital before a constable came to send them home (or worse).

Once they had bid farewell to the poor nurse standing dead on her feet behind the desk, they headed for the front doors. A man was entering as they were exiting, and as they passed Garak brushed his shoulder. The force of Garak’s brisk pace sent the man stumbling.

“Oh, pardon me!” Garak apologized, quite contrite. He put a hand on the man to steady him, peering worriedly into his face. “I hope you aren’t hurt?”

It was difficult for Julian to see the man’s face, his mouth covered by a mask and his eyes shadowed by heavy ridges. But when he turned his face away from Garak, Julian caught a glimpse of two bloodshot eyes.

The man seemed to be avoiding inspection, turning his head to cough into his sleeve. “I’m fine,” was all he mumbled before walking away.

Julian looked to Garak curiously, but the Cardassian simply shrugged and continued out the door.

Silence remained between them as they walked back to their little apartment in East Torr. Whether that was due to caution or something else, Julian didn’t really know, but he didn’t mind. The evening’s work hadn’t exactly left him feeling chatty. And besides, there was no telling who might be lurking in the shadows of the sleeping district.

The streets were eerily quiet, a stark contrast to the vibrant night life Julian had once seen. Before all this had happened, he had enjoyed taking an occasional stroll with Garak when the night air was cool enough, exploring the district’s nicer areas. Torr might not be the most opulent of sectors, but it seemed like the cultural heartbeat of the city, its taverns, restaurants, and museums always brimming with life.

Not anymore. Now they barely caught sight of anyone on the streets, and the people they did see were in quite a hurry. No one wanted to be found outside after the eleventh bell chimed – Meya Rejal had made sure of that.

They made their way home under dim lunar light, most of Torr’s streetlamps inoperative or barely working. The few functioning viewscreens provided a little light as they flashed the time in bold red numbers, a pleasant voice reminding residents of the curfew. Only two of Cardassia’s three moons were out that night, the second one just visible in the larger one’s glow. Julian wondered if that was the Blind Moon Garak had told him about, but didn’t quite feel like asking.

Once they were home Garak claimed the console, saying nothing to break the silence. Though he appeared mostly unchanged, the screen’s glow revealed a hint of impatience playing upon his brow.

Having grown weary of the silence, Julian hung up his dust mask and came up behind Garak, observing the console. It looked like there were quite a few new files to sift through from Dukat’s work computer. He was about to volunteer to share the load when Garak spoke.  

“As interesting as that was, I’m afraid we simply can’t afford to spend any more of our evenings that way,” he said, eyes fixed on the screen. A hint of censure tainted his even tone.

Julian’s lips pulled into a frown, eyes fixed on the back of Garak’s head. “Interesting?” he repeated, shocked by the flippancy he thought he heard. “Treating Cardassians shot by your own government is _interesting_ to you?”

Heaving a sigh, Garak swiveled his chair around to face Julian. “All right, that was a poor choice of words,” he conceded, not sounding very apologetic. He tilted his head up and met Julian’s gaze with a critical eye, his features stern without the usual smirk. “But I’m quite serious, Doctor. You have to remember your priorities here. I understand it’s in your nature as a doctor, but you simply cannot save everyone.”

Julian narrowed his eyes, folding his arms a little defensively across his chest. “I don’t need you to remind me of that, Garak,” he stated, irritation threatening his composure.

Garak nodded sharply, shadows obscuring half of his face. “Good, then I also don’t need to remind you how risky it would be to return to that hospital. No doubt the Bureau has its eyes fixed on Torr, especially the dissidents they weren’t able to arrest.”

Julian shifted under Garak’s scrutiny. He had always hated to be lectured, but when it came from a man as dishonest and infuriating as Garak, it took all his restraint to remain composed. “I’m not planning on going back. It was a one-time thing – they just really seemed to need the help,” he explained, but Garak didn’t seem too convinced. “I know I have to be careful. I won’t blow our cover.” As much as his heart ached for those people, he would have to leave them to the care of the other doctors.

Garak quirked an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. “Really? Because you came quite close today,” he observed, disappointment practically dripping from his voice.

It was strange how Garak’s glower could make him feel so small when _he_ was the one looking down upon the man. “That was unavoidable!” Julian shot back, his composure quickly slipping. “We didn’t expect Rugal to be there, and by the time we saw him it was too late.”

“The first time, perhaps. But when you deliberately pulled him aside, you were taking an unnecessary risk.”

Something snapped. Julian met Garak’s gaze with a new and ferocious intensity, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. “The boy lost his father!” he shouted, anger bursting forth unfettered. “I’m sorry you’ve buried your emotions so deep that that means nothing to you!”

In a flash Garak’s mask seemed to crack, fire glinting behind his partially shadowed eyes. Julian fisted his hands, ready for whatever impassioned retort would be thrown at him, only it never came. Garak turned back to the console with not so much as a sigh.

Really, the man was incorrigible. Just when it seemed like he might air a fraction of his true thoughts, offer a small glimpse into his mind, Garak’s carefully crafted façade reemerged. If provoking his ire didn’t force him to speak openly, then what would it take?

Throwing up his hands, Julian declared it hopeless and stormed off to his bedroom. But he had crossed only half of the room when Garak’s voice cut through the silence, barely audible from where he still sat.

“It means more than you know…”

 

* * *

 

A thud shook Julian from the sleep he had unwittingly succumbed to. Sitting up in bed, he found that one of the padds he had been studying had fallen to the floor. The remaining three were still scattered across the mattress around his body.

Glancing at the chronometer, he saw that there were three more hours before he had to get up. Might as well make use of them. Grabbing the nearest padd, he propped up his pillow against the wall and made himself comfortable, his eyes taking a moment to adjust to the screen’s glow. That was when he noticed a dim light emanating from under the door.

Immediately he arose, restraining his movements to a careful tiptoe despite his curiosity. He took extra care in nudging the door open, only a crack so it wouldn’t make any sound.

But it looked like he was too late. Garak, still in his pajamas, had just shut off the console and was standing up, making his way back to the couch. Whatever he had been doing had just ended.

Julian hesitated at the door. He could go charging out in his underwear, demanding to know what Garak had been doing and calling bullshit on any suspicious excuses. But no, there was a better way about this. Returning to his bed, Julian laid down upon the hard Cardassian mattress, his mind churning with the plans of tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I found this old photo of Andy and Sid and it's basically how I picture Julian and Garak looking in this fic, except Julian's hair is longer and they're not wearing '90s fashion. https://www.andyjrobinson.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2017/10/Andy-and-Siddig.jpg
> 
> Tune in next week for discussions and discoveries.


	19. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parmak opens up to Julian, and Julian discovers something in Garak's closet.

_“Breaking news from the war front! We’ve just received word that our troops have launched an offensive against the Klingon Fleet occupying Pentath III.”_

Julian was only half listening to the newscast babbling in the background as he sat behind his desk, rummaging through his medkit in between bites of Cardassian flatbread. With Telma’s help he had managed to unofficially obtain certain drugs that might prove useful in his other line of work, including several that induced targeted memory loss. After his close call with Rugal, he had to be prepared in case he ran into someone a little more perceptive. He couldn’t rely on anyone else to get him out of a tight spot – that had been made quite clear.

Slipping another vial into his medkit, he tried to remain focused on his work. But that was easier said than done when such thoughts kept plaguing his mind, making him irritable and a little distracted all morning. At least the first leg of his plan had succeeded that morning – he had been able to start another data recovery scan on the console while Garak was in the bathroom.

Obviously Garak’s promise the other night had been a lie, though Julian hadn’t really bothered believing him in the first place. He only hoped the console would be able to find some trace of Garak’s surreptitious actions. 

The chime of the door interrupted his thoughts. If his “enter” came out a little brusque, that was hardly his fault. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with Garak right now, especially when the Cardassian pretended their little argument last night hadn’t happened.

But it wasn’t Garak who stepped into his office with a precariously high stack of padds.

“Nurse Ikara found the old reports you asked for,” Dr. Parmak said, setting his delivery down on Julian’s desk. “Seven volumes on infectious diseases during the Second Hebitian Period.”

Julian glanced up only long enough to thank Parmak, closing his medkit before the doctor could look too closely. It was a little odd that the busy doctor was making the delivery personally, but he didn’t think much of it. Assuming Parmak would leave, he returned his attention to the console until the Cardassian spoke.

“Do you have a moment? There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”

Remembering his manners, Julian shut off his console screen and gave the doctor his undivided attention. “Of course. Have a seat,” he said, offering him a chair. Since his desk was positioned against the wall, he had to swivel around to face his guest.

“Thank you,” Parmak said. He was about the take a seat when he paused, casting his gaze around the office. “But first,” he began in a softer tone, stepping closer to Julian. “Have you come across any surveillance devices in here? I’m not sure if there are any, but the Order tended to plant them everywhere when they were in power.”

Julian blinked, taking only a second to decide how he wanted to proceed. “The Order?” he asked blankly.

There was visible surprise in Parmak’s eyes. “The Obsidian Order,” he explained, his voice still a whisper. “You mean you haven’t heard of them?”

Julian just shrugged. “Only vaguely,” he replied, keeping his tone indifferent. He may have been a little careless in his dealings with Parmak before, but he was determined not to give the man any more reason to be suspicious. “You’re welcome to look around if you’d like.”

Parmak nodded and began his search. Siting back in his chair, Julian pretended to skim one of the Hebitian reports as he watched the doctor sidelong, noting his movements. He wasn’t as thorough as Telma had been when she had “cleaned” his office. Julian still wasn’t certain how much Parmak knew, but if he really was some sort of operative, he was doing an excellent job hiding it. Most likely he was just a doctor with a penchant for defying authority.

Once Parmak had searched most of the office’s nooks and found nothing, he seemed satisfied. “Well, it looks like we’re safe,” he decided, taking a seat in the chair opposite Julian. “I’m sorry if I seem paranoid, but it’s been made abundantly clear that I can’t trust the current administration.”

Julian watched the doctor curiously. “So what’s wrong?” he prompted.

Resting his forearms on his thighs, Parmak leaned forward. “I think your hunch about Pa’Dar’s death may have been right,” he said, his voice slightly above a whisper. “If he had still been on the Council, he may have talked Rejal out of her madness. Everything has worked out a little too perfectly for Central Command since his death. They’ve regained much of their power.”

Julian eyed the doctor solemnly. If Parmak had only realized that earlier, he may have been more useful in trying to prove Dukat’s guilt. But as much as Julian wanted to discuss this – who knew what helpful knowledge the Detapa Council’s doctor might unwittingly possess – he restrained himself to a shrug. “I don’t really know much about Cardassian politics,” he said, keeping his tone flat. “Has the Council never taken such action before?”

Parmak seemed a little shocked by the question, as if it had been very stupid indeed. Julian inhaled anxiously, wondering if he had played a little _too_ dumb for the time he had spent on Prime. But then Parmak’s features settled into grave intensity. “No,” he stated, a frown on his lips. “Cardassia may seem very oppressive compared to the Federation, and in many ways we are, but I’ve never seen anything like this before – and I’ve spent three years in a labor camp. We’re all used to the surveillance and the censorship, and our neighbors disappearing in the night, but firing on civilians is a step too far.”

Julian nodded silently, inviting Parmak to continue. From the furrows wrinkling his grey brow, it was clear there was much on his mind.

Parmak let his eyes drift from Julian, deep in thought. “I suppose the most shocking thing is who authorized this,” he continued at length. “If it was Legate Dukat, or anyone else in Central Command, then that would’ve come as no surprise. But Meya Rejal, Ithas Bamarek, Erek Rhemet, Alon Ghemor…these were the leaders of the dissident movement when the Order and Central Command had all the power. Now they’ve turned against the very people they promised to protect.” He let silence grow between them as his brow ridges pulled tighter together, taking another moment to gather his thoughts. “But I suppose I should have seen the warning signs after Rejal refused to allow Tekeny Ghemor to come home. He’s the true leader of the movement and the rightful chief executor.” His features grew hard, barely concealed anger glistening in his eyes.

Julian took a moment to study his companion’s face before deciding to ask, “Is that why you originally suspected the Council had been infiltrated by a Changeling?” He knew he was walking a dangerous line here, trying to obtain information while revealing little of his own.

“Yes,” Parmak answered, his eyes flicking back up to Julian. “And even though the blood screenings have proven otherwise, I’m not convinced that there isn’t _some_ kind of outside influence at work here. It’s the only way I can imagine these people changing so radically.” His eyes seemed to suddenly brighten, as if a memory had stirred. “You mentioned Dukat once, that Telma said he might be involved…”

Julian tried not to frown under Parmak’s expectant gaze, resting his ankle on a knee casually. In his defense, that slip of the tongue had happened when he still thought Parmak was his contact. But it seemed it had been useless to hope such a detail might fade from a Cardassian memory. “She mentioned him once, yes, but didn’t explain any further,” he said with a shrug. “You’d have to ask her. I’ve been so busy with the plague that I haven’t given it much thought.”

“Of course, I understand,” Parmak nodded. “I would probably be wise to do the same. But my heart breaks when I see what this movement has become.”

As another stretch of silence ensued, Julian couldn’t help but sympathize with the man whose hopes had been so thoroughly crushed. The Cardassian looked tired beyond his years as he sat stoop-backed and pensive, sorrow written openly on his features. But silent sympathy was all he could offer. He hardly trusted himself to speak much longer.

At length Parmak broke the silence. “You’re a Human,” he astutely observed. “I know your world went through this sort of thing before and came out better for it.” He lowered his head and sighed, pressing a finger into the concavity on his forehead. “But with us, history must always repeat itself. Even when it looks like the cycle might finally be broken, our leaders always turn on us in the end.” A clear hopelessness colored his voice, settling deep into the wrinkles that lined his face.

The mood was growing far too dark now. Grasping for words, Julian eventually decided on an observation he had been keeping to himself for a while now. “You know, I didn’t really expect to meet anyone with your views on Cardassia.”

A small smile touched Parmak’s features, flickering like a weak flame. “There’s more of us than you might think, I’m just perhaps one of the bolder ones…” As his voice trailed off, his smile went with it. “Something I’ve paid for in the past.”

Shifting in his seat, Julian eyed Parmak for a long minute as he recalled what little Garak had told him about Parmak. Who knew how much of that was true. “Why were you sent to a labor camp, if you don’t mind me asking?” he ventured to ask.  Even in the safety of his office, he felt compelled to lower his voice a touch more, as if the ghost of the Order might somehow be listening.

If Parmak was offended by the question, he didn’t let it show. In fact, he didn’t let much show at all, speaking in an oddly detached voice. “The official charge was sedition, which basically meant my views were deemed too ‘dangerous,’” he explained. “A few years ago I was personal physician to Enabran Tain, the head of the Obsidian Order. That was my first mistake. Somehow he caught wind of my affiliation with Tekeny Ghemor’s party and had me arrested and interrogated.”

“Somehow” indeed. If Parmak’s honesty with him now was any indication, Julian could understand how Parmak may have let such views slip. _But who was he to judge?_ a voice sounding suspiciously like Garak asked in his mind. He probably would have made the same mistake in Parmak’s place.

Before Julian could properly respond to Parmak’s story, the Cardassian turned a little sheepish. “Ah, but I’ve talked your ear off,” he said apologetically, straightening his posture.

Julian smiled. “Don’t worry about it. People often say I do the same,” he assured him. Hoping to lighten the mood, he arose from his chair and headed to the replicator. “Would you like anything to drink? _Gelat_ , perhaps?”

“Oh, I’ve already had three cups today. But I wouldn’t mind some redleaf tea,” Parmak replied. His usual friendly demeanor had returned, a smile in tow.

Julian was in the middle of tapping his order when a sudden question caught him off guard.

“So where’s Nurse Robinson? Don’t you two usually have lunch together?”

Brilliant. He really didn’t want to talk about Garak right now, but how could he explain that to Parmak? _“Yes, well, Andy is actually a spy and I’m getting fed up with his secrets?”_ That would go over well. Keeping his back to Parmak, he answered, “I don’t know. He doesn’t exactly tell me things.” Though he tried to keep his voice neutral, a hint of bitterness had crept in.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but is there some discord between you?” Parmak asked carefully. “You two usually argue like an enjoined couple, but yesterday there seemed to be more to that conversation in my skimmer.”

Returning with Parmak’s redleaf tea and a mug of _gelat_ , Julian eyed the Cardassian a little guardedly as he gave him his beverage. Really, he had been a fool to forget how perceptive the man was. “It’s nothing, really…” he said, returning to his seat.

That was where he should have left it if he was truly cautious, but that proved easier in theory. Even though he couldn’t trust Parmak with the details of his mission, he knew Parmak was a good man. And when these frustrations had been confined inside him for so long, a sympathetic ear was quite tempting. “Only…” he continued despite his hesitance. “I value our friendship but I’m not sure how much Andy does.”

Parmak nodded sympathetically, taking a sip of his piping hot tea. “I admit I don’t know him too well, but it seems like he considers you a close friend,” he remarked. “He always has a smile on his face, but it never seems quite as bright as when he’s looking at you.”

Feeling his cheeks redden against his will, Julian lowered his gaze and sighed softly. “I wish I could believe that, but with Andy it’s hard to tell _what’s_ behind that smile.”

As Parmak pursed his lips in contemplation, Julian eyed him warily. It was impossible to guess what Parmak’s impression of their relationship might be when he himself failed to classify this ever-changing thing between them.

“Am I right in assuming he’s not the most open of people?” Parmak asked at length. “Perhaps stemming from a difficult past?”

Julian frowned, his shields quickly raising again. “I couldn’t say. He doesn’t talk about his past,” was all he said.

This change did not go unnoticed by Parmak, it seemed, his face growing contrite. “I’m sorry, it was rude of me to pry,” he apologized. “I’ll let you get back to work. Thank you for the tea.”

After Parmak had left, Julian remained in his chair with his _gelat_ cooling in his hands, staring at the wall but seeing nothing outside of his thoughts. Perhaps Parmak’s words should have given him encouragement, but he wasn’t sure he could trust the doctor’s assessment. Though a surprisingly good judge of character, all Parmak saw when he looked at them were two Human men with a shared interest in medicine and literature. How could he know what sort of man Garak really was? Even Julian was still trying to puzzle that one out. Just when he thought he saw a flicker of goodness inside Garak, the mosaic would shift and present the contours of a manipulative schemer. But wasn’t that what had intrigued Julian in the first place? The unknowable enigma? The taste of danger?

 

* * *

 

Julian succeeded in avoiding Garak for the remainder of his shift, but when it came time to go home, that was no longer an option. Garak, of course, was as artificially genial as always, murmuring pleasant observations about everything from the weather (which was _far_ more oppressive than Garak’s “temperate” description) to the “ghastly” coat of a man on the shuttle (Julian didn’t even bother looking). Julian responded very little to these comments, too focused on how to check the console when they got home. At this point he was tempted to be unapologetically open about his distrust and just pull up the scan’s results for the Cardassian to see. It was Garak who had something to hide, after all, not him.

Julian’s dust mask felt particularly stifling as he and Garak proceeded down the walkway from their shuttle stop, his constant adjustments doing little to lessen his sweating. The early evening sky remained yellow with sunlight, its rays beating mercilessly upon the surface below.

The streets of Torr were still abnormally uncrowded, especially when Julian recalled his first weeks here, but there seemed to be a gradual revival in activity. As they approached the Central Market, Julian saw that the lines had returned to their full length, weaving in and out around the square. Fearful or not, people still had to eat.

After they had passed one of the many parked police skimmers, Garak suddenly stopped. Though his face was mostly hidden behind a dark visor, Julian could hear the saccharine smile in his voice. “How would you like a home-cooked dinner, my dear?” the Cardassian asked, gesturing to the food stall closest to the walkway. There was a freshly baked scent wafting their way. “I think it’s been long enough since we last indulged ourselves. I would be more than willing to wait in line.”

Julian eyed his friend with open suspicion, feeling a little bolder behind his mask. That “my dear” hadn’t been thrown in on accident. “Fine, if that’s what you want,” he agreed, keeping his voice indifferent. It was almost too convenient…Did he know about Julian’s scan? Or was his timing just coincidentally perfect for a second time?

As eager as he was to check the results of his scan, following Garak might reveal more than whatever was on that console. It was quite likely that Garak was planning to do more than just stand in line for vegetables.

But when Julian looked back up, Garak was gone. He scanned the crowd hastily, searching for the only dust mask paired with brightly colored scrubs, but he was too late. The Cardassian had slipped away.

His decision made for him, he turned away and continued home.

Once the apartment doors had closed behind him, Julian didn’t even bother to hang up his mask, setting it beside the console as he took a seat. His fingers flew over the controls as he pulled up the results, ignoring the pounding of his anxious heart.

When the results appeared in front of him, he blinked. That couldn’t be right… He inputted a few more commands into the computer, just to be told that it _was_ right. Here was all the data that had been retrieved by the microscan – a completely blank screen.

His sigh seemed to echo in the empty apartment as he sat back in his chair, running a hand over his sweaty forehead. He really couldn’t be surprised by this. Garak knew he had already managed to recover data, he had told the Cardassian himself. It would have been uncharacteristically foolish for him to let it happen again, unless he was trying to get caught. But evidently he wasn’t, even with his convenient trip to the market.

The scan had turned up blank quite often before, but never had it provoked such frustration. Julian _knew_ Garak had been doing something last night. But there was no way of knowing _what_ when it had been completely purged from the computer.

 _Why did it matter so much?_ he kept asking himself, trying to understand his own strange reaction. From the moment they met Garak had played him like this, revealing nothing – even when it was significant – until Julian dragged it out of him. The incident with the implant, the brush with death and the nick-of-time treatment, would have developed _some_ level of trust in most people, but this was Garak. Their relationship had been built on this game, a game Julian once found challenging and invigorating. Now it was infuriating. He was tired of games. He wanted more.

Julian raised his head from hands, a little shocked by the realization. So it wasn’t mere physical attraction, was it? It couldn’t be, not when he felt personally and inexplicitly betrayed by the spy’s lies. He didn’t see Garak as just an intriguing lunchtime companion anymore, or even a mentor. Yes, they were partners in this assignment, but there was no guarantee that Garak’s covert affairs had anything to do with the assignment. That wasn’t why he desired Garak’s honesty.

Honesty…what a foolish thing to desire from that plain, simple, lying, maddening tailor.

Ah, but perhaps he was being needlessly dramatic. Trying to push back the emotions that eclipsed his analytical abilities, he took a moment to consider it from a different angle. The scan’s lack of results might very well mean that Garak hadn’t deleted anything at all, that he hadn’t been engaging in clandestine acts – that perhaps he was doing nothing more than routine surveillance.

Julian pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stop the pounding in his head. As much as that thought should have calmed him, another part of him was not yet ready to accept that. Not when there were so many unanswered questions.

His gaze landed on the closet and he knew what he had to do.

Brushing aside his qualms, he crossed the room to the small corner closet where Garak stored his effects. He opened the door without another thought, revealing an impeccably organized array of garments and cases. Careful not to touch too many of Garak’s things, he started his search. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but anything out of the ordinary would be a good place to start.

But so far, nothing stood out. There were clothes, all hung neatly and color coordinated on hangers, padds with nothing but literature on them, case of hypos with his hormone treatments, and personal hygiene products, including the razor that Julian had given him.

His conscience pricked him, but he pushed it aside and continued sifting through Garak’s items, taking care to leave everything exactly as he found it.

He was nearly done with his search now, but there were still no weapons or spy gadgets to be found – not even the personal comm Garak had used to eavesdrop on Dukat and Damar. They must be hidden somewhere, perhaps in a false wall panel like their phasers…

Then, in the corner behind a case of ration bars, he found Garak’s handy tailor kit. His curiosity piqued, he opened it to find only simple tailoring tools. Well that was a letdown. Shutting the case, he was about to return it when he noticed something odd. The case looked slightly deeper from the outside…A false bottom? Could it really be that simple?

It turned out that it was. For all the times that Garak had criticized his favorite spy novels for their cliché and absurd ideas, it looked like even the great Elim Garak used some of their tactics.

After carefully setting the tailoring tools aside, he began to examine the secret compartment’s contents. There were many small devices that were most likely for spying, including the personal comm, a couple isolinear rods, and the lens he had once seen Garak use in that Bajoran orphanage. Then there were a few strange little devices that Julian didn’t recognize.

Taking out the isolinear rods, he placed everything back inside the kit and returned it to its dark corner. The burning in his calves did little to distract him as he rose from his squat, eyes fixed on the console.

The first of the two rods, it turned out, contained only a copy of the conversation between Dukat and Damar. At least that explained how Garak sent the recording to Alon Ghemor when Julian still possessed the original rod.

When he interfaced the second rod with the computer, it took a few seconds longer to pull up the data. There was more on this rod, it seemed. Leaning back in his chair, he stared blankly at the screen until the transfer was complete.

The files first appeared as their designated names, long strings of letters and numbers that meant nothing to Julian. Curious, he selected the first file and was presented with an audiovisual recording.

He squinted at the screen, trying to make sense of what he saw. It looked like a room, maybe, though it was too poorly lit to make out any details beyond that it. But from what he saw, it didn’t look familiar. He sat back, giving it a moment to play, but nothing seemed to be happening. There was an occasional unidentified noise in the background, but nothing appeared on screen. These must be surveillance logs, but of what, Julian didn’t know – it hardly looked like the office of a legate.

Closing that file, he pulled up the next one and found something quite similar, only the scene was better lit. But that one was hardly more interesting than the last, so he skipped ahead a few entries, choosing at random.

At first it started like all the others. Growing impatient, Julian was about to stop it when he heard a voice. A few voices actually, coming from off-screen. Listening intently, he could make out a few words, something about hound-racing. There were two voices in the conversation, one more enthusiastic than the other.

When a third voice joined the discussion, Julian blinked. He continued listening for a second more, just to make sure he hadn’t misheard. No, that was definitely Rugal’s voice.

Suddenly very uncomfortable with this, Julian stopped the playback and swiveled away from the console, eyes landing on the sunset outside the balcony doors. He needed a moment to digest this.

Whatever reason Garak might possibly have for spying on Rugal, Julian didn’t like it one bit. Hadn’t he insisted that Rugal couldn’t possibly have much to offer them, that he wasn’t worth contacting? Well he was certainly worth surveilling, apparently…

Julian ran a hand through his hair, trying to sort through the thoughts that were rushing through his mind. Well, if he had any doubt before, this certainly confirmed it. Garak had his own plans on Cardassia, plans involving Rugal. But were these plans just a blanket surveillance of anyone who might have useful knowledge? Or were they a little more involved than that? An unpleasant thought occurred to him.

As much as he might not trust his friend, could he really believe that Garak would do something to seriously jeopardize this mission, to put him at risk? But when he thought about it, Garak _had_ said that he was willing to make sacrifices for the good of Cardassia. Garak had always been a pragmatist, excusing unscrupulous actions with a greater end goal. He might very well believe that getting Julian arrested – or worse – was a price worth paying for whatever he was trying to attain.

Did that mean…? Julian swallowed thickly. All this time, had he really been that stupid? But now that the thought had reared its head, it refused to leave. What if Garak’s interest in him had been purely self-serving? What if all those smiles and gazes and flirtatious banter – and moments of apparent _affection_ – were nothing more than an attempt to manipulate him, to put him at ease so he wouldn’t see what was right under his nose? What if this thing between them was just a product of Garak’s toying and his own overactive imagination?

Wait, where were all these thoughts coming from? How did Garak spying on Rugal indicate that the Cardassian would betray _him?_ If anything, he should be concerned for Rugal’s safety. Garak might be interrogating him right now for all he knew.

He turned back to the console with renewed purpose. Perhaps he should see what else the rod contained before succumbing to panic. Scrolling through the files, he found more of the same, all of the logs he opened containing mostly dead air. It would take hours to comb through it all, even at double speed.

Rubbing his eyes, he was tempted to give up when a different file type caught his eye. Opening it, he was presented with a technical diagram, countless fine white lines intermingling against a dark green background. Squinting, Julian had to examine it for a moment before he recognized its form – a holoprojector. There was another device beside it, reminding him of the diagrams Miles used when repairing a malfunctioning viewscreen.

Before he could even begin to hypothesize why Garak might be interested in a holoprojector, the console chimed, informing him that new activity had just occurred on Dukat’s computer. Instantly curious, Julian’s fingers flew to the controls, switching to the access they had of Dukat’s console.

It was a simple message, just one line of text: “Meet in thirty metrics. Kurat Tavern.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo...what do you think Garak is up to? :)
> 
> A big thanks to everyone bearing with me! I know it's been moving kinda slowly but I promise that good things are coming soon!
> 
> Next week's chapter may be a little late because next weekend will be busy for me. I'll try to finish it as soon as I can.
> 
> Tune in (hopefully) next week for Dukat, a tavern, and a confrontation.


	20. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian spies on Dukat and confronts Garak.

Julian lingered in the shadows of a narrow alleyway. If he remembered the map he had glanced at before starting out – and he did, thanks to that eidetic memory his parents had ordered – then Kurat Tavern was just another block down. That was where he would find Dukat…and possibly Garak.

Perhaps it wasn’t a coincidence that Garak had gone off on the same evening Dukat would be meeting someone in public – though how Garak could have known about the rendezvous before Dukat’s console, well, that was beyond him.

He continued in the dark safety of narrow streets, every rustle of clothing a little too loud, until he emerged onto a bustling street, the evening dimly illuminated by a twilight haze. This must be near the border between Tarlak and Torr, Julian guessed. There was far more foot traffic here, the crowd giving him enough cover to feel comfortable in the open. Even with his dust mask obscuring his face, he found himself ridiculously nervous. Or maybe it was just the heat causing him to sweat under his dark clothes. Yeah, that was probably it. But it wasn’t as if he had ever done this sort of thing before – especially alone.

Kurat Tavern, he soon discovered, was not the kind of establishment he had expected to find someone of Dukat’s high position. But then again, it _was_ Dukat.

Upon entering the tavern, Julian was forced to part with his only measure of protection. As vulnerable as he felt without it, wearing a dust mask indoors would have just drawn more attention. Wishing vaguely that he was a Breen, he stepped off to the side to get it over with, quickly pulling up the hood on his loosely fitting cloak. It wasn’t as concealing as the dust mask, but it was better than nothing. It was a good thing he had brought that garment to Prime, though he had only been expecting to use in the dusty, hot winds.

When he stepped out of the corner he let out a breath. No one was staring at him. That was a good start. In fact, everyone inside the tavern seemed quite concerned with their own affairs, every table brimming with noisy life. But his relief was short-lived.

He spotted Dukat sitting a few tables away from the entrance. There were others seated around him, but Julian had already turned his face away, keeping his head down as the incoming traffic forced him deeper into the lion’s den. When he was finally bold enough to look back up, he found that he had been pushed even closer to his target, only a short partition separating him from the table. A quick glance told him that all the other tables around Dukat were equally full.

Inhaling shakily, Julian fixed his eyes in front of him and continued forward, slipping a hand into his cloak pocket. Then, when he was close enough to hear Dukat’s laughter, he let his hand brush the vine-like plant that decorated the partition, releasing his recording device among its leaves. Not daring to breathe, he continued to walk past, expecting at any moment to hear Dukat’s call over the pounding in his ears.

Only he wasn’t stopped. Snatching a glance behind him, he found Dukat still happily engaged in conversation, his gaze nowhere near Julian. That had gone surprisingly well…hopefully he had pressed the right button on the device.

The tavern was quite packed this evening, forcing Julian to claim one of the only seats open at the bar. Once he had set his mask aside and gotten his bearings, he realized he had made the right quick decision. He couldn’t pick out anything at Dukat’s table from where he sat, the jumble of voices overwhelming his ears. But at least it gave him a safe view of the back of Dukat’s head.

There were four other people seated around Dukat’s table, Julian observed. One he immediately recognized as Glinn Damar, but the others he wasn’t so sure of. He recalled seeing their faces in the medical records of assembly members, but couldn’t remember any names. He had skimmed past most of them during his early research, assuming that important details wouldn’t be hidden among the minutiae.

Surprisingly, Regnok was not among them.

His reconnaissance was soon interrupted by the voice of a bartender. Swallowing his nerves, he hid behind his best smile and ordered a drink. He didn’t exactly feel like drinking, but it would look quite strange to be seated at a bar without one. So he asked for _kanar_ – not his favorite, but it was the only Cardassian liquor he could recall at the moment.

A glass of blue liquid was soon in front of him, and since the bartender was too busy to make small talk, Julian was left to his observation.

The tavern was as crowded as could be expected at the end of the bureaucrats’ workweek – and there were quite a few bureaucrats here tonight. At first Julian couldn’t understand why so many workers from Tarlak would visit Torr after what had happened, but then it became clear – there were more than a few scantily-clad women scattered about.

Normally Julian wouldn’t have made a judgment about someone’s occupation based on their attire, but this was Cardassia – they were known for having a strict dress code for polite society. Anyone openly defying it…well you could only assume what they did for a living.

It was really no wonder Dukat and his ilk came here. With Cardassia’s rigid moral code, the more elegant establishments probably prohibited women of that profession. Honestly, Julian was a little surprised to see them on Prime at all. But it seemed some politicians were happy to turn a blind eye to any violations in _that_ area.

He continued to look around a little anxiously, but there was no sign of Garak. If he was here, he was certainly hiding well.

Continuing his scan, Julian was relieved to find that he wasn’t the only non-Cardassian in the room. There were a few Federation civilians scattered about the tavern, most of them wearing the clothes of engineers. Glad that it made him stand out less, he relaxed his shoulders and took a swig of _kanar_.

_Ooh_. He tried not to flinch as the liquid went down smooth. That would take a bit of getting used to. Exhaling loudly, he set down the glass and decided to pace himself.

After watching Dukat and his party for a while, Julian started to grow restless. He couldn’t openly stare at them, restraining himself to casual glances over his shoulder, but what he saw did not give the impression of conspiratorial plotting. If anything, it looked like a typical drunken evening among rowdy friends: laughing, drinking, and overt flirting with the women who occasionally lingered nearby.

It was during one of these observations that something changed. Dukat had thrown back the last of his liquor and was now standing up and _heading Julian’s way. Shit!_

Whipping back around, Julian tried to fight the rising panic. Had Dukat felt himself being watched? They hadn’t made eye contact. Perhaps he hadn’t seen him yet, but he would soon enough… Thinking fast, he downed the last half of his _kanar_ and dropped his head on the counter, burying his face in his arms as the oversized hood enveloped his head. The _kanar_ was burning his throat, tears welling in his eyes, but he dared not cough.

He heard Dukat’s voice far too close for comfort. Once the blood stopped rushing so loudly in his ears, he was able to make out the Cardassian’s words. He was simply ordering more drinks, his voice merry and slurred.

Dukat’s order seemed ridiculously long as Julian waited for him to leave. Though his peripheral vision was blocked by his hood, he calculated through sound that Dukat was standing about fifty centimeters to his right. Finally, when it seemed he was done, the bartender had the nerve to ask if that was all! Julian bit back his frustration.

Dukat’s laugh sounded even closer now. “And give this sorry lightweight another of what he was having when he wakes up.”

It took all of Julian’s muscular control not to flinch when Dukat’s hand landed with a _slap_ on his back. He dared not even breathe, terrified that any sound might give him away. His mind was swimming with the perfect blend of anxiety and alcohol, worried that even the pounding of his heart would betray him (though his medical training should have known better). He fought the urge to reach for his phaser –even a twitch might catch Dukat’s attention.

The seconds seemed to tick by agonizingly as Julian waited, expecting a hand to grab the back of his neck and pull his head up for the tavern to see.

But after a few moments in blind panic, Julian heard Dukat’s voice fading away. He hadn’t been caught. Dukat must have been back at the table now, his “reinforcements have arrived, gentlemen!” barely perceptible to Julian’s ears.

Julian finally allowed himself to exhale, but he waited a few more minutes just to be certain. Then, after no one else had disturbed him, he made his best show of waking up from his drunken stupor, shaking his head and rubbing his temples.

When he chanced a glance around the room, he found things much as they were. No one seemed to be paying this sorry lightweight any mind. Looking back at the counter, he decided to decline Dukat’s generous gift, his head still swimming from his first glass. Still, he kept his hand around the glass in case anyone glanced his way.

Now that Dukat knew of his location, he couldn’t risk too many glances in the legate’s direction. But the tavern was completely full now, giving him no other option but to stay put or linger suspiciously in a corner. So he continued staring down into his _kanar_ , ears trained on the mish-mash of sound in case Dukat’s voice came closer again.

Another thirty-two minutes and seventeen seconds passed before Julian glanced back to find Dukat’s party leaving. Pulling his hood closer, he watched from the corner of his eye as the men started toward the exit, carrying on in their laughter and conversation. He began to rise as they neared the door. Perhaps they would be a bit more conspiratorial in private…

But when Dukat and Damar were joined by two women, Julian sat back down. _Nope._ He wasn’t _that_ desperate for information.

Besides, the night may not have been a total waste.

Glancing at the vine-covered partition, he knew it was time to leave. After setting down his _kanar_ and grabbing his dust mask _,_ he made a beeline for the exit, dodging new patrons as they entered.

But, of course, it would have been too easy for him to just grab his device and leave. Fate would not allow him such luck. When he was nearly at the right spot, a woman suddenly stepped in front of his path. It was clear by her dress what her profession was.

“Leaving so soon?” she asked, silky voice belying the semblance of innocence in her wide eyes.

“I…” Forcing the anxiety off his face, he said the first lie that came to mind. “I was waiting for a friend, but he didn’t show up.”

The woman appeared genuinely surprised, blinking before her smile returned. “Ah, you speak Kardasi quite well for an offworlder,” she remarked, and even though it was stupid, Julian felt a little swell of pride. That was the first time anyone had complimented _his_ Kardasi. 

She took a step closer now, her fragrant perfume assaulting Julian’s senses. “What a shame about your friend,” she murmured. “If you’d like some company, I would be more than happy to oblige.”

Julian swallowed thickly, eyes darting to the vines behind her. “I think I’m fine, thanks,” he said, trying to politely take a step back.

But she must have heard the uncertainty in his voice. “Are you sure?” she asked, tilting her head in a way that showed off her dark neck ridges. “Have you ever been with a Cardassian before, _Hu-man?_ ” She pronounced the word exactly like Quark.

Julian might have laughed if the rest of her words hadn’t drawn his focus. He frowned. “I can’t say I have…” And for a second it was tempting. She was pretty, he supposed, but that hardly mattered right now. What did matter was Garak’s reaction. He could only imagine how infuriated Garak would be if he came home with this woman on his arm!

But no, he had other things to focus on. Now was hardly the time for petty games. Schooling his features into neutrality, he said, “I’m sorry, I really must be going.”

The woman didn’t seem intent on pursuing him any longer. “Fine, suit yourself,” she shrugged. But before moving on to her next potential client, she added, “But you’re missing quite an experience…”

“I’m sure I am,” Julian muttered.

Once the woman was safely out of view, he continued down his path unimpeded. In one smooth action he managed to slip his hand into the vines, locate the recording device, and drop it into his pocket. Then, once he was outside, he placed the dust mask over his head and started home.

 

* * *

 

The moment the apartment doors closed behind him, Julian knew he was in trouble. Any relief he felt from making it home before curfew vanished when he saw Garak’s face.

“Ah, Doctor,” Garak said, rising from his seat at the console. His voice was glazed with ice. “So you haven’t been snatched up by the Bureau, I see. Care to explain where you needed to go running off to without so much as leaving a note?”

Even from where Julian stood, he could see the rage flickering dangerously behind Garak’s eyes. There was a time when such an expression would have unnerved him, but he had long since moved passed that. Garak couldn’t intimidate him anymore. “No, Garak, I don’t care to,” he replied brusquely, sparing him only one sharp look before turning to hang up his dust mask and cloak.

“This isn’t a game, Doctor!” Garak fumed. His anger was so shockingly _open_ , no longer buried beneath seven layers of deceit, that Julian had no choice but turn back around. Garak was approaching him with fire in his eyes, the dim light playing upon contorted features.

“Only a fool would be so reckless as to –” He paused directly in front of Julian, nostrils flaring. Julian met his gaze unflinchingly. After a moment of scrutiny, Garak continued, his tone low and derisive. “I don’t know _what_ could have possessed you to go out drinking – _alone –_ when one misstep could get us both killed.”

Though his blood was already close to boiling, Julian restrained himself to a measured, icy tone. “You know, Garak, you really have no right to lecture me after what you’ve been doing.” This wasn’t how he had seen this happening, but now was as good a time as any. He was beyond ready.

Garak’s mouth opened in apparent disbelief. “What _I’ve_ been doing?”

“Yes,” Julian hissed, shifting into a combative stance. “I know you’ve been doing more than just standing in line for vegetables when you go to the market.” Over Garak’s shoulder, he could see the bag of produce sitting quite forgotten on the table.

“Doctor, I’ve already told you –“

“You’ve told me nothing but lies!” Julian interrupted, his restraint quickly slipping. But that hardly mattered now. He had held this in for far too long. “I want to know why you’ve been spying on Rugal!”

Garak actually _blinked,_ just a hint of shock flashing in his eyes before it was eclipsed by anger. “Well if I had known I was sharing an apartment with such a busybody, I would have taken more precautions.”

“You can blame yourself for that, Garak,” Julian shot back. “I wouldn’t have to stoop so low if you would only tell me what you’re up to!” His voice came out a little more pleading than he had intended.

Garak drew a step back from Julian, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Ah, here you go again, demanding to know things you have no business knowing!” he said scornfully. “Well if you’re really so curious, I’m sure you’re _resourceful_ enough to figure it out.”

He was near the tipping point now. “No, enough games!” Julian closed the distance between them, holding the Cardassian’s gaze fiercely. “You’re going to tell me what you’ve been doing behind my back.”

Garak dragged his gaze over Julian’s body, as if noting their proximity, before refocusing on his eyes with an intensity of his own. “Has this assignment taught you nothing about how real intelligence agents operate?” he scoffed, censure dripping from his voice. “I have the same reasons as Starfleet for keeping my secrets – the more widespread the knowledge, the greater the chance of failure.”

“But what if I have something to contribute?” Julian fired back. “You ever consider that? Or am I just some boy you have to babysit while you carry out your real mission?”

Though his voice returned to a semblance of its usual composure, Garak’s eyes were still alight with anger. “Need I remind you that it was _you_ who volunteered to be a Starfleet operative? I have no allegiance to Starfleet, so pardon me for not having total faith that their plan is best for my people. Especially when that plan relies on an inexperienced probe!” His voice rose back to its previous volume.

“So you admit it! You _do_ have your own plan here!”

Garak’s eyes were gleaming like marbles. “Frankly, Doctor, I don’t understand why you’re so upset by this!”

The storm was raging in torrents now. “Because I–” Julian faltered, suddenly aware of how close their faces were. Damnit, it had almost slipped out. “Because I need to know that you won’t betray me!” he replied instead, choosing the safer of two truths. “I promised Captain Sisko and Admiral Ross that we could trust you.” The winds were slowly dying as he tried to retain some modicum of control over himself, lest the words try slipping out again.

But that proved difficult when Garak was laughing patronizingly in his face. “And what a promise that was!” he remarked, gesturing widely.

All right, screw it.

“Damn you, Garak!” Julian fumed, no longer caring that he was yelling into the man’s smug face. “If you’re not going to tell me, then I can’t work with you anymore! You can stay on Cardassia or you can find a way back to DS9, but I want you out of this apartment.” His eyes widened when the words had poured out, a little surprised by his own threat. But he didn’t back down, holding Garak’s glare doggedly.

Garak didn’t seem too certain of Julian’s sincerity. “And how do you plan to continue this assignment without me?” he challenged with a scoff. “All the information you’ve gathered has been with my help.”

“Not all of it.” Narrowing his eyes, Julian slipped the recording device from his pocket and held it up proudly. “And I’m sure Telma will be more open to training me once she doesn’t have to worry about you obtaining Starfleet secrets.”

Garak’s gaze flickered to Julian’s hand before returning to his face. His laugh seemed to echo inside the little apartment. “If I wanted Starfleet secrets, I would have pumped you for information long ago. You’ve given me plenty of opportunities to press my advantage.” He eyed Julian with nothing short of a leer, eyes glinting predatorily. It was as if they had gone back in time to their first meeting in the replimat, only there was far less friendliness in Garak’s eyes now.

It was Julian’s turn to take a step back as he failed to repress a shiver. No, he wouldn’t be swayed by his emotions. Folding his arms across his chest, he eyed Garak coldly. “I think you should start packing.”

The hunger immediately faded from Garak’s eyes, a strange flicker of _something_ replacing it. “Doctor, this is ridiculous!” he argued. “You’re perfectly safe. I’ve taken steps to ensure nothing is traced back here.”

Julian regarded his friend with a sad little smile, realizing what he had just seen in his eyes: the fear of a cornered animal. But as much that moved him, he couldn’t allow himself to be manipulated again. “Ah, but you’ve told me that I can’t trust you, my friend, so why should I believe you now?”

“Because for once, Julian, I am telling the truth!”

And with that his icy shield shattered, powerless to stand against the sound of his name on Garak’s tongue. Rage faded to sadness as he gazed into shadowed blue eyes. “I wish I could believe you, Garak.”

The room fell into silence as Garak withdrew from him, crossing the room to gaze out the balcony doors. Julian allowed him a moment of contemplation before his patience started wearing thin. But just as he opened his mouth, Garak spoke.

“I suppose there isn’t too much at risk anymore, now that I’m forced to abandon this plan.”

Julian blinked at the man, his body a dark silhouette against the dim moonlight. All the fire had drained from the Cardassian, but he wasn’t erecting the usual barriers of geniality. Perhaps it was a trick, but Garak sounded nearly as troubled as Julian felt.

“Then will you tell me?” he asked, a note of hope in his voice.

Garak’s gaze remained fixed on the distant night sky. “I’ll be as forthcoming as I am able,” he said at length.

A breath escaped Julian’s lips, the tension slowly draining from his shoulders. Perhaps he wouldn’t have to follow through with his threat. “All right,” he agreed, swallowing his impatience. If Garak was actually going to talk, he would do it at his own pace. Julian took a seat on the arm of the couch in preparation. But once it was clear Garak wasn’t going to eagerly divulge all that he knew, he decided it best to prompt him. “What were you planning to do with Rugal?”

When Garak responded, his voice had regained some of its confident indifference. “The boy is quite safe, if that’s what you’re worried about. I was hardly interested in him to begin with.”

“Then why were you watching his apartment?” Julian asked, careful not to sound too demanding. He angled his body more toward Garak, but the man continued to avoid his gaze.

“Rugal shares an apartment with four other young people, two of whom are prominent dissidents,” Garak explained, as if they were seated across their usual Replimat table. It was remarkable how quickly his masks could change.

Julian took a moment to consider this new information. “So you were eavesdropping on the dissident movement?” he guessed.

“Not exactly,” Garak replied. “I was more interested in their subspace communications than their personal conversations.”

“They were receiving subspace communications?”

“How do you think they published those letters in their broadsheets?”

Julian thought back to the broadsheets that had once littered the streets of Torr, their pages full of encouragement from the Cardassians in exile. There was Natima Lang, and then of course there was the leader of the entire movement, the constant thorn in Rejal’s side. “Tekeny Ghemor…” he mused aloud. Another memory flashed inside his mind and it clicked. “You wanted his coordinates!” He shifted to the edge of the armrest, the pieces beginning to fall together. “In the Mathen System!”

Garak turned his head slightly, regarding the doctor from the corner of his eye. Though the light was dim, there seemed to be a vague smile pulling at his lips. “Ah, so you did see that star chart,” he remarked with just a touch of amusement. “Yes, I was able to obtain his coordinates. As you may have noted, I haven’t collected surveillance since.”

He hadn’t noted that actually, too focused on the content of the files to notice their dates. But that wasn’t what confused him. He spent a moment mulling it over, trying to understand Garak’s motives, but decided he might as well take advantage of this rare candidness. “But why did you want his coordinates? And how does this tie in with the holoprojector diagram?”

Garak spared him another glance. “You found that too,” he observed, just a hint of surprise in his voice. “Tell me, Doctor, do you know of any other uses a holoprojector may have besides those delightful spy-themed adventures you enjoy in Quark’s holosuites?”

Julian’s eyes widened. “How do you know about – never mind.” He already knew the answer. “Well…” His voice trailed off as he considered Garak’s question. Even when Garak promised transparency, he still had to make Julian work for it. “I suppose they can be used for all sorts of holographic displays. Research, communication…Starfleet uses them in some sickbays to run an EMH program during medical emergencies. And then there are more questionable uses, like disguising one’s appearance through a holofilter or even forging…”

Ah, so that’s what Garak was up to? Julian’s eyes widened as the next piece of the puzzle clicked into place.

“You were going to send a transmission to Ghemor, weren’t you? But you needed a holoprojector to do it, which means you weren’t just going to sit in front of the console and send greetings from Cardassia, wish you were here!”

“Very good, Doctor.” Garak gave him the courtesy of an approving nod, though there was no proud smile to accompany his words. “Perhaps Ghemor would be interested in hearing from an old Order agent wearing a Human face, but I think there is someone else he would much rather hear from, someone whose call he has been anticipating for quite a while.”

“Meya Rejal.”

Energy coursed through Julian’s body, sending him pacing around the room as he worked through the realization. “But that means…you were going to have him think he was being invited home by Rejal? I don’t understand…Even if Ghemor believed it, how would Rejal respond when he shows up in Cardassian space?”

Even with the energy Julian exuded, Garak preferred to keep his gaze trained on the horizon. “She would have no choice but to accept him,” he stated simply. “Because at the same time the message is sent to Ghemor, another forged message from Rejal would be transmitted to all public viewscreens announcing that after some difficulties with the Mathenite government, their beloved Tekeny would finally be coming home.”

“I see…” Julian murmured, seating himself on the back of the couch as he paused to consider the probabilities in Garak’s plan. It was clever, yes, but there was still so much that could go wrong. “But even with the public against her, what would stop her and Dukat from sending the military to arrest him?”

Garak clasped his hands together behind his back. “I would have arranged a transport to smuggle Ghemor into the heart of the Union. And once he was on Prime, well…I trust you’ve been watching the ‘casts?”

Drawing a hand across his forehead, Julian tried to recall the last ‘cast he had seen. “There was some announcement about an offensive on Pentath III,” he remembered.

“Yes, and what the ‘casts failed to say was that Central Command has lost so many troops in Rejal’s defensive strategy that they’ve had no choice but to deploy most of our home defense,” Garak explained.

“So if Ghemor were to come home,” Julian began, mind churning. “Rejal would have no force to oppose him and his supporters. The constabularies would probably side with Ghemor, seeing how tense their relationship with Rejal has been. She would have no choice but to cede leadership to him.”

“Yes,” Garak confirmed with a nod of his head. “The majority of the Council and Assembly would side with Ghemor.”

Even with all these pieces before him, something still didn’t add up…

 Julian studied the Cardassian carefully, still unable to see much in the dim light. Garak could probably see every line on his face with his goddamn Cardassian vision, but Julian was left to guess what his features might reveal. Not that they usually revealed much, but Julian considered himself better than most at deciphering those little glimmers in his eyes. But since that was currently not an option, might as well air his confusion.

“But Garak, I don’t understand why you would go through such an elaborate plot for Tekeny Ghemor,” he expressed. “Didn’t you say that he would be no better than Rejal?”

There was a moment of silence before Garak turned his body, eyes fixing on Julian for the first time since this labyrinthine explanation had begun. “I did say that, yes, but I thought you knew better than that,” he said, a gleam of mischief in his eyes.

Ah, he should have known. No wonder this wasn’t squaring with the conversations he recalled. Garak was smarter than that…But still, there was something else.

“But aren’t his views a little too radical for your taste?” Julian asked, peering at him intently. “You interrogated Parmak just for sympathizing with him.”

A small smile curled Garak’s lips. “Ah, I see you’ve been speaking with dear Dr. Parmak,” he remarked, a touch of sarcasm in his voice. “That’s a discussion for a later date.” He dismissed it with a wave of his hand. “I will admit that as an Obsidian Order operative, I was expected to quell that particular dissident movement, among many other subversive groups. And yes, many of his ideas are quite impractical. But it was I, you’ll recall, who helped prevent Ghemor’s arrest and execution.”

Julian also recalled that Sisko had practically coerced him into helping rescue Kira, but he left that unsaid. The result remained the same. “So if you helped him get into power now, he would lift your exile,” Julian realized. “Rejal would never trust a former Order agent – she’s having Alon Ghemor try and execute them. But Tekeny Ghemor already owes you a favor.”

Garak nodded. “That is true, but only part of it. Whatever else Tekeny Ghemor may be, he is not spineless like Rejal. Dukat would not be able to manipulate him. I doubt he would have ever returned so much power to Central Command, let alone entertain any ideas about joining the Dominion.”

“And he would listen to your warnings about Dukat’s plot,” Julian guessed, gaze drifting to the floor as he fell back into thought. He had to admit it, Ghemor’s presence could certainly make his job easier – or altogether unnecessary. But that didn’t mean he was entirely on board. “So if all went according to plan, your world would be safe from Dominion influence and you could return home.” He paused, eyes fixing pointedly on Garak. “But what if it didn’t? What if Rejal refused to relinquish power and had enough people to back her? You would risk starting a civil war for this?”

Silence settled between them as Garak turned back to the night sky, his face returning to the shadows. “To prevent the Dominion from subjugating my people and using them as troops in a war against the Alpha Quadrant? Yes, Doctor, I would.” He faced Julian again, taking a few steps until his face was softly illuminated, the blue returning to his eyes. “Which is more than Alon Ghemor has the will or foresight to do.”

Julian needed a moment to gather his thoughts, struck by the intensity in Garak’s gaze. There really wasn’t much reason to doubt his sincerity. There was a strange openness – a vulnerability, even – in his voice that urged Julian to drop his defenses. Well, whatever else could be said, he at least knew one thing – Garak was truly and utterly devoted to his people. Even if his methods were a little more questionable than Julian was used to…

Garak’s voice interrupted his thoughts, soft and contemplative. “Perhaps now you can see why I couldn’t tell you. If this plan had been executed and you were complicit, you would have broken the Prime Directive.” His eyes shimmered in the lamplight, features set in rigid resolve. “I, however, am not beholden to such rules. I’m only doing what I can to protect my homeworld.”

Running the plan once more through his mind, Julian frowned. “By risking millions of lives,” he pointed out.

“For the chance to save billions,” Garak countered steadily. A moment more and his neutral mask gave way to furrows. He turned away with a sigh. “But please, there’s no use bickering about it now when there’s no way to proceed.”

Julian eyed the man curiously, noting the tension in his jaw as a soft stream of light fell upon it. “Why not?” he asked, scrunching his eyebrows together. “What happened?” An uneasy feeling had fallen upon him. If they were in danger…

A spark of irritation returned to Garak’s features. “You were right about my trip to the market,” he admitted, pressing his thumb below an eyebrow. “I was supposed to meet a contact I had in the black market – he sent me a message claiming to have procured a holoprojector. Only he never showed up. When I came back here and checked the constabulary records, I found that his body had been discovered by the river this morning.” Garak moved away from the door, beginning to pace around the room as he continued. “A coincidence, perhaps, but not one I’d be willing to risk my life on. If his death has anything to do with my inquiry then it would be too risky to contact another dealer. A basic holographic projector would be easy enough to find; most of the buildings in Tarlak are outfitted with them. But the projector I need would have to interface with this viewscreen, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to make precise modifications.” He pointed to the screen on the wall. “And those are difficult to find. Tain had one, but he moved most of his equipment to the Arawath Colony when he retired.”

Julian sat silently under the barrage of information. The Cardassian had certainly been thorough in exploring and rejecting options. Even if he was convinced Garak’s plan was worth pursuing, setting aside the moral questions, he couldn’t see a way around this roadblock – not that he knew much about forging transmissions. But perhaps Garak really _was_ telling the truth about it all. Try as he might, he couldn’t find any loose ends that weren’t explained by what Garak had just told him.

“So that’s it, then?” Julian asked, eyeing the spy with a bit of scrutiny. “That’s what you’ve been doing on the console those nights that I saw you?”

Garak stopped his pacing a small distance away from Julian, turning to meet his gaze. “That’s correct,” he answered softly. “And many nights that you didn’t see me. It took my contact a while to locate a projector.”

Nodding silently, Julian watched his friend for a little longer, searching for words. A part of him wanted to ask how much had gone into concealing this plan – just how much of Garak’s affection had been to distract him, to keep the plan hidden from his lovesick eyes? But something held him back. Perhaps he didn’t want to know the answer.

“So what now?” Julian asked at length.

“Well, I suppose I’ll start packing.” And with that, Garak moved to the closet and started rummaging through his belongings. “Perhaps when I get back to DS9 I can strike a deal with Quark.”

A strange melancholy washed over Julian as he watched Garak start packing, unhanging a tunic and folding it neatly against his belly. Rising from the couch, he was soon at Garak’s side. “You know I’d have to report you to Sisko if you tried that,” he said, a small smile curling his lips. “Why not stay with me? I know you’re not very fond of Starfleet’s plan, but I think we have a good shot here.”

Garak paused in the middle of his folding, eyeing Julian dubiously. “To obtain information that will protect the Federation? But what will become of my world?”

The sadness in Garak’s eyes was all Julian needed to finally realize. _Of course._ How could Garak be invested in this plan when it hardly benefited his people? It was a wonder Garak had agreed to assist him at all – Garak wasn’t exactly welcome by his own government, but the Federation was still a rival power. Exposing some of his government’s affairs to Julian was not something he must enjoy doing, even if Julian would only pass on Dominion-related information to Starfleet. Of course Garak would want to get something out of this for himself. How could he have been so self-centered not to see it?

All the Federation could do was identify a threat and prepare accordingly, but where did Cardassians fall in all of this? If Dukat was allowed to succeed, they would be forced into a catastrophic war that would just cripple them further. But the Federation couldn’t intervene in internal affairs, not really. Cardassia wasn’t a member. She was hardly even an ally.

Julian opened his mouth before his mind could stop him. “Well I, as a Starfleet officer, have a duty to report the information we find to Starfleet Command,” he began. His lips curved into a grin when he saw that he had captured Garak’s attention. “But you, on the other hand, have no such obligation. If you were to, I don’t know, use that information to expose the Dominion plot to the Council, or to the public, well that’s really none of my business.”

Was it Julian’s imagination, or was Garak trying to repress a smile? “How very discreet of you,” the Cardassian observed, squatting down to place a garment in one of his cases. “Tell me, stranger, what have you done with Dr. Bashir?”

Laughing, Julian crouched down to Garak’s level and placed a hand over his, stopping him from closing the case. Garak did have a point, but Julian didn’t want to consider it at the moment. “I’m sorry I exploded at you,” he apologized, a fraction of his true feelings slipping into his voice. “Please stay. I could really use your help.”

Garak met his eyes with a hint of surprise, blue orbs expanding slightly. A small smile crept upon his features. “Well that’s quite obvious,” he remarked, quashing Julian’s hopes of a similar apology. But this was Garak – his apologies were hardly ever overt. “Why do you think I came along in the first place? We could hardly continue our pleasant lunches with you locked away in Dukat’s prison.”

Julian let out a laugh. “Dukat has his own prison?”

“Oh yes. The entire third floor of his house is just a block of cells reserved for his most hated enemies and Bajoran slave girls.”

Julian eyed him dubiously. “You’re lying…I hope.” But Garak only smiled, his eyes twinkling with trademark mischief. Maybe things would be okay between them. Julian felt his tension drain away entirely, replaced with something much warmer.

“So you’ll stay?” he asked, gazing at the Cardassian hopefully. He allowed his face to move just a centimeter closer.

The smile that had been toying at Garak’s lips eventually won out, spreading over his features with unusual warmth. “Well you give me no choice when you look at me like that.” His hand, still beneath Julian’s, turned over and offered a squeeze.

Damnit. His heart was really fluttering now. But no, as tempting as this was, as warm as Garak’s smile was, and as warm as…well, his hand really wasn’t warm, being ectothermic and all, but this wasn’t how this should happen. Hadn’t Julian just been fuming at him, afraid Garak would betray him? He would be a fool to fall so quickly again…

“Ah, uh,” Julian faltered, biting his lip. It was hard not to fidget under that gaze.

Thankfully, a memory saved him before he could do anything stupid. “Well then, partner,” he said, withdrawing his hand and rising to his feet. “I think there’s something you should see...well, hear, actually.”

Garak set down his case and rose to join him. “Ah, I was wondering if you might get back to that.”

Drawing the recording device from his pocket, Julian began to recount the story of his first solo operation, exaggerating his confidence just a little. He decided to leave out the part about the woman – it wasn’t really necessary anyway, and they had enough arguments for one evening. But overall, Garak actually seemed impressed – well, besides the usual teasing jests. They made their way to the console as he spoke, and by the time he had concluded the tale, all of the data had been transferred off the device. Julian started the playback eagerly.

But that eagerness began to fade when they found only the sounds of a crowded tavern. The device had been close enough to Dukat’s table to pick up their conversation, but so far it offered them nothing. Dukat’s voice could be heard from time to time, joining in the laughter and trivial ramblings of his colleagues. Julian had had just about enough when the conversation suddenly took a serious turn.

_“Our world really isn’t what is used to be,”_ said a voice Julian didn’t recognize. _“Rejal’s running it into the ground.”_

_“She’s finally trying to turn things around, but as far as I’m concerned it’s too late,_ ” added another unfamiliar voice. _“I fear we might not be able to get out of this mess ourselves.”_

_“It’s disgusting how she’s been allowed to cripple us. We’ve lost thousands of troops thanks to her ‘strategies.’”_ That was Damar’s voice, Julian realized – a little slurred, but still recognizable.

_“Not to mention her disastrous rationing system. She needs to send those Federation workers away, they’re taking more resources than they’re worth. We have plenty of our own people who can do those jobs. I don’t know why she ever invited them.”_

_“Our people_ should _be doing those jobs, but some of us seem incapable. Honestly, Dr. Parmak shouldn’t be the chief physician at Central if he needs help from Humans to cure a Cardassian disease.”_

_“Agreed. The Ministry of Science should replace him with one of Central Command’s doctors, I hear they’re excellent.”_

_“No.”_ It was Damar’s voice again. _“There are too many wounded soldiers. Central Command has no doctors to spare.”_

_“Yes, that is a little more important,”_ the first man agreed. _“Besides, we’ve all been vaccinated. Who knows, the plague might be a blessing in disguise. It could help with Rejal’s policing problem in Torr.”_

_“How that woman managed to pull off a coup, I’ll never know. Even the constabularies don’t respect her, but she’s too spineless to do anything about it.”_

_“She let the dissidents multiply like voles and now there’s too many to exterminate.”_

Finally Dukat’s voice was heard. _“You don’t need to be so dismal, friends,”_ he said, his voice surprisingly steady for the alcohol Julian had seen him imbibe.

_“And why not? Haven’t you been listening, Dukat?”_

_“Our problems are many, but we may not have to worry much longer,”_ Dukat answered, a smile in his voice. His next words were barely distinguishable over the din. _“I’ve seen a plan for a glorious future, one with wealth, and powerful allies, where we are the leaders of the Alpha Quadrant.”_

_“Really? Where have you seen this plan?”_

_“Not at Rejal’s meetings, or at least not yet…Oh, it looks like your glasses are empty! Another round on me?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was actually able to finish it early this week, yay!
> 
> This chapter has been looming over me for a while, so I hope I've explained everything in a way that makes sense. Kinda nervous publishing this one, but I'm glad it's over with.
> 
> Tune in next week for Telma, regnars, and kanar.


	21. Regnar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian makes a decision about his assignment and Garak teaches him some tricks of the trade.

“I may have found the evidence we need.”

Telma’s eye ridges shot up as she accepted the isolinear rod from Julian. “Have you now?” she asked, a half smile playing at her lips. “All right, let’s see it.”

Garak looked up over his mug of _gelat_ , sitting quite comfortably at Julian’s research table. “There isn’t much to see, I’m afraid.” He set down his mug on the table, making a coaster out of one of Julian’s padds.

Though annoyed, Julian found himself biting back a grin as he walked over to the table and removed his friend’s beverage from a week’s worth of research. “But there’s certainly something to hear,” he told Telma as he pushed some padds and equipment aside, making ample room for Garak’s _gelat_.

Garak tutted, shaking his head. “You’re only making the mess worse, my dear.”

Rolling his eyes, Julian was ready with a retort when sound came issuing from his console. Turning back around, he found that Telma had already inserted the isolinear rod and was claiming his chair without so much as asking. Julian remained by the table as he watched the back of her head, trying to determine her response from her posture. But so far he wasn’t getting much.

They had clipped out most of the trivial, drunken rambling when they copied the file over to the rod, so it didn’t take long to reach the most important part of the recording. Telma didn’t say a word, letting the entire recording play out before voicing her thoughts.

Once the noisy tavern din had cut off, Telma swiveled back around with contemplation written on her features. “That certainly is interesting,” she mused opaquely.

His first piece of possible evidence, and it was just interesting? Having no patience for vague responses today, Julian asked, “Is it enough to begin preparing for war?”

Telma crossed her legs, resting an elbow on her knee. “It’s difficult to say,” she replied. “Dukat has such a wonderfully vague way of putting things.”

When Julian heard Garak snort into his mug, a smile tugged at his lips. Dukat probably didn’t seem all that clever to a true master of obfuscation.

“Yes, but he clearly mentioned powerful allies and ruling the Alpha Quadrant,” Julian pointed out. “That sounds like a Dominion conspiracy to me, or at the very least plans of war. Starfleet Command should be concerned by this, especially with the power Dukat has been gaining.” Frowning, he noticed that Telma had taken the liberty of fiddling with the things on his desk.

She considered Julian’s words for a moment, pressing a stylus to her lip thoughtfully. “You may be right. Those are prominent party leaders he’s speaking to, so he must be gaining some influence in the Civilian Assembly,” she explained. “It isn’t clear if he’s referring to the Dominion or some other power – the Romulans, perhaps – but either way it should be taken into heavy consideration…This might just be enough to confirm our suspicions.” She met his eyes with a wide, almost genuine smile. “Well done, Julian.”

A wash of pride rushed through him. Finally, after all these standstills and dead ends and failures, he had made some progress! Some big progress, maybe, depending on how Telma’s superiors took it. But still, it was more than he had accomplished so far, and he had obtained it on his own, despite his lack of training. Perhaps he was well suited for this after all.

But before he could rejoice too much in his victory, Garak spoke.

“I’m curious, Nurse, about Starfleet’s standard of proof here,” the Cardassian said, peering calmly over his mug. “Because my government would most likely dismiss this recording, as audio only evidence is quite easily fabricated. So I find it a bit unlikely that Starfleet Command, who is known for their long deliberations, would find this adequate evidence to start pouring resources into war preparation.”

Telma turned her gaze to Garak, quirking an eye ridge. “Such things can be fabricated, but we trust our operatives not to deceive us.”

But Meya Rejal wouldn’t, would she? One glance at Garak took the wind right out of Julian’s sails. He bit his lip as he fell into contemplation, reviewing the evidence once more. But as he turned the puzzle around in his mind, it became increasingly clear what he had to do. If Dukat had explained the recording under Veterans’ Bridge to Rejal’s satisfaction, he could do it again. He could probably explain away anything short of explicitly proven treason.

“Dukat mentioned plans,” Julian said, leaning half-seated against the research table. “He’s seen plans. Wouldn’t Starfleet Command like to get ahold of these plans? It would clear up any doubts, and it would give us quite the advantage strategically.”

Telma’s lips spread into a grin as she studied the doctor, appearing a little too intrigued. “Why, Julian, are you volunteering?” she asked, voice colored with amusement. “Yes, we’d certainly be eager to get our hands on Dukat’s plans, if they do indeed exist, but that goes beyond the scope of your assignment.” She removed the isolinear rod from the console and held it up. “If this _does_ satisfy Starfleet Command, then your assignment will be complete. You’ll be free to leave, or stay and focus on the plague if you so choose.”

“And the plans?” Julian asked, eyeing the data rod in her hand.

Telma pocketed the evidence before folding her arms across her chest. “We have other agents we can assign to retrieve them.”

Julian met her eyes pointedly, his decision already made. “And if I were to volunteer for this assignment?” he asked, straightening up.

“Then you’d be free to take it,” his contact answered, shrugging her thin shoulders. “You’ve clearly demonstrated some talent in this area. And you’re quite the fast learner.”

It was difficult to tell how sincere her compliments were with that way she talked, as if every line was some amusing joke. But Julian brushed aside his ego for the decision at hand, looking over at Garak. He had to make sure this was all right with him – they were partners now, after all.

A smile, perhaps warmer than his usual reptilian grin, touched Garak’s features. “Well don’t look at me, Doctor. I’ll follow your lead whatever you decide.”

But there were different, far less neutral words in his eyes. He was pleased. This was the right move.

“All right,” Julian decided, turning back to Telma. “Then I’d like to help find these plans.”

Telma met his resolution with a glimmer in her eye, her smirk widening. “Wonderful,” she expressed, rising from Julian’s chair. “I’ll continue to provide whatever assistance I can.”

He highly doubted that, but he held back a scoff as Telma approached and laid a hand on his shoulder.

“It may become more difficult to leave, the deeper you go. Just remember that. If you have any hesitation about continuing this mission, this may be your last easy way out.”

Julian blinked, studying his contact warily. All amusement had dropped from her voice, lending an unusual gravity – a darkness – to her voice.

“I have no hesitation.”

And with that, Telma’s gravity dissolved, a friendly grin returning in its place. “Then it appears we’ve chosen well.” She took a step back from Julian, glancing at Garak before turning her attention to the chronometer on the wall. “Well, I think I’ve been away from the front desk too long, so if there’s nothing else…”

“There is one more thing, actually,” Julian said, a thought springing forth in his mind. He waited until Telma had turned back around to continue. “Dr. Parmak…is he in any danger of losing his job because of me?”

Telma’s smile remained wide and unconcerned. “I wouldn’t worry too much about Kelas. There may be some assembly members who aren’t very fond of him, but he’s good friends with many on the Council.” Her eyes fixed pointedly on Julian. “So as long as he remains in good standing with them, he has nothing to worry about.”

 

* * *

 

For a sophomore intelligence agent just assigned to his next mission, the subsequent days passed with very little intelligence gathering. Any momentum the recording had given Julian was halted by his work at the hospital, but he was too busy to complain. His workload had nearly doubled when two new patients joined the isolation ward.

They were Torr residents, probably patients at the free hospital before their symptoms finally earned them a visit to Central. Luckily they were both in the early stage of the plague, so their chances of having already spread it were low. The Rudellian plague was a little abnormal in that regard – the later the stage, the more contagious it became. At least that helped keep the outbreak on Prime limited to a handful of people, provided they were quarantined soon enough.

Julian spent his shifts mostly on his feet now, conducting examinations, running tests, and experimenting with several symptom alleviators that had helped his other patients, with barely any time for conversation at lunch. But what he lost in moments with Garak was made up by new developments in his medical research. With his sample size increased, he was able to further study the bacteria’s molecular structure and behavior, confirming his theory about the abnormally resistant polysaccharide capsule that protected each bacterial cell. That partially explained why his antibiotics were being rejected.

And as for his new assignment, he had yet to make much progress during his evening research and surveillance. But he had come to accept the slow pace of this work, his small victory keeping his spirits up.

Yes, his first successful operation was certainly keeping him chipper these days, a smile never too far from his lips. It had nothing to do with the man that made his eyes light up whenever he dropped by his office or surprised him with a freshly replicated mug of _gelat_ in the morning. Oh no, he wasn’t falling again so quickly. That would be ridiculous.

 Okay, maybe he was, Julian realized as he caught himself grinning at Garak for the fifteenth time in one morning. But just a little. His mind kept returning to that night, analyzing every detail of their conversation, but he couldn’t find anything odd that he had overlooked – well, besides the fact that Garak had been open with him. Maybe what the Cardassian told him wasn’t the complete truth, but it was far closer than ever before.

But that wasn’t the only unusual thing about Garak’s behavior. Even though he evidently had no more reason to deceive Julian, his warmth persisted. Things had returned to normal between them – maybe better than normal. If Julian was being completely honest, it seemed like Garak was flirting with him again. But that’s all he would do. There might occasionally be a heated glance directed Julian’s way, or a smile that seemed more genuine than his usual pleasant mask, but nothing ever crossed the line.

It looked like if Julian ever wanted something to come of this, he would have to make the first move.

And damnit, the thought was tempting. He had really let himself fall for the man, hadn’t he? It had moved far beyond the physical attraction that he had first insisted it was. It was almost ridiculous how much he enjoyed their conversations, especially their arguments, no matter what the topic was. He had always enjoyed them, but only now was he realizing why.

Garak challenged him in a way that no one else could. For the first time in so long – perhaps ever – he didn’t feel the need to hold himself back in their debates. He could hit Garak with all he had and Garak would return in kind, challenging his suppositions and dismantling his arguments with vigor and ease. And when Julian shot back just as quickly, crafting a defense on the spot, he never looked at him with shock or suspicion. He just continued arguing. It was incredibly liberating.

But no matter how strong these feelings were growing, he couldn’t act on them – at least not yet. Their little fall-out was still too fresh in his mind. He needed to take a page out of Garak’s book and start exercising some caution. A little self-restraint would be good too, but his imagination seemed to have other plans when it was left to its own devices.

When their next day off finally rolled around, Julian hopped out of bed with more than the usual vigor, ready to start some serious work on his new assignment. He and Garak had spent the previous evening strategizing over dinner, deciding that while Garak continued his attempts to access Dukat’s home console – he was in the process of developing his own highly sophisticated spyware (which he was quite proud of) – Julian would continue to wade through the information they could access, focusing on Regnok, Dukat, and his Civilian Assembly drinking buddies.

Once he had dressed in his lightest pair of clothes – because it was a particularly hot day and no other reason – he went out into the living room to find Garak at the table. But he wasn’t enjoying some warm morning beverage or forcing down a ration bar – actually, Julian wasn’t sure what he was doing. He crossed the room to find out.

It became clearer once he was close enough to see the cloth on the table and the sonic stitcher in Garak’s hand. Well, it had been a while since he had last seen this.

“What are you doing?” Julian asked, eyeing Garak’s work curiously. The shape of the garment was a little hard to determine by the way Garak held it, but the navy blue color looked nice, he supposed. The fabric seemed to be a light, stretchy material, but he couldn’t have put a name to it if he tried. He didn’t know his fabrics like Garak – he was actually quite hopeless when it came to this sort of thing, as Garak never failed to mention.

Garak spared him a glance before refocusing on his work, running the stitcher over something that looked like a sleeve. “I noticed that outfit you wore the other night. It may have been adequate for moving around busy streets and crowded taverns, but it wouldn’t do so well in a more high risk environment.”

Realizing this garment was for him, Julian’s interest grew. He tried to touch the fabric but Garak brushed his hand away. “You didn’t have to go through the trouble of making something for me,” Julian said with a little laugh.

“I’m afraid I did, now that the fate of my world rests partially in your hands,” Garak returned, watching Julian’s hand in case it tried disturbing his work again. “And you hardly have anything more suitable in your closet.”

Julian frowned. “You went through my closet?”

Huffing, Garak set down the garment and fixed him with a withering look. “Are you really going to take issue with that?” he challenged.

Well, he did have a point. “I don’t suppose I can,” Julian admitted, smiling at the unimpressed Cardassian. “Still, you could have asked.”

Garak’s response was a noncommittal grunt, letting a comfortable silence fall between them as he returned to his stitching. Perhaps Julian should have grabbed some breakfast – his stomach was certainly voicing its opinion – but he decided to stay and observe, sitting on the edge of the table as he watched the tailor’s skillful hands. The trade may have just started as a cover – or a punishment, even – but Garak had devoted himself to perfecting it, taking great pride in his craftsmanship. Julian wondered why, during these last three years, he had never taken the time to watch him work, always too busy chattering away when he stopped by the shop. How had such a mesmerizing thing escaped his notice?

But his mind wouldn’t just let himself enjoy an uncomplicated moment of observation. No, it had become fixated on a particular portion of Garak’s words, repeating them inside his head. The fate of Cardassia rested partially in his hands…It was daunting, even for someone who faced the reality of death nearly every day in his profession. He could save one person at a time, sometimes a dozen, maybe more if he could ever develop that damned antibiotic…but an entire world?

What was Starfleet thinking, entrusting him with obtaining war plans? He had barely stumbled his way through his first eavesdropping, heart pounding and body sweating profusely every time there was a little danger. Oh, it was a perfectly natural fight-or-flight response, but somehow he doubted Garak ever became that nervous.

After another moment, Julian broke the silence. “You know, Garak, I’m not sure an outfit will be enough to make me a good operative, not when I’ve barely been trained,” he admitted with a sigh. “I wish I had some of your skills.”

Garak set down his sonic stitcher and turned to Julian, a twinkle in his eyes. “My dear Doctor, why didn’t you just ask?”

And with that the day was set. They pushed aside their general intelligence gathering plans for something a little more structured, Garak deciding the pace of his instruction. As he laid it all out over a quick breakfast, Julian found himself scarfing down his food even faster than usual, eager to begin his training. But really, who could blame him? This was what he had been waiting for, what he had dreamed of long before this mission, long before he knew he was attracted to Garak. The seasoned spy taking him under his wing and teaching him the ways of covert operations, hacking and tailing and infiltration and maybe even a seduction trick or two – all right, better not get too ahead of himself, he realized as he nearly choked on his ration bar.

He tried to contain some of his excitement as they sat down in front of the console for phase one of Julian Bashir’s Operative Training. Well, Julian was sitting anyway. Garak was content to hover behind him as he began to explain the basics of hacking, Julian hanging onto his every word.

At first Julian thought he would need to dumb himself down a bit to hide how fast a learner he really was, but things proved more challenging than he anticipated. The concepts were quite new – he had some experience with the languages of Starfleet technology, but Cardassian tech seemed to be as convoluted as Miles often complained it was – but he knew he could grasp it if only he could concentrate. He had picked up that data recovery trick, after all.

But concentration was easier said than done when he had Garak leaning over his shoulder, taking control of the console every so often to demonstrate something. He _had_ to be doing that on purpose. There was no way their proximity had escaped his notice. And god, what was that smell? It filled his nostrils whenever Garak leaned a little closer, and though the Cardassian probably had an arsenal of flowery words to describe the scent, all Julian could think was that it was lovely. Was it aftershave, maybe? Cologne?

Finally when Julian was able to focus his mind, things began to click. By the end of his first lesson he was able to hack into some low-level database files at Constabulary HQ. His teacher seemed quite proud, showering him with smiles and only slightly hyperbolic praise.

After a quick lunch break, Julian’s training resumed – though exactly what the next lesson was, he wasn’t certain. Garak didn’t tell him much before leading him out the door, giving him only a moment to don his dust mask and stuff his pockets with a tricorder and recording device, not sure what he might need.

He followed Garak wordlessly through the streets of Torr until the familiar bled into the unknown. Before he knew it they were in a completely new neighborhood – a new sector, even. “Munda’ar,” Garak had called it when he asked, but wouldn’t explain further. This district was the least impressive of all Julian had seen, consisting mostly of large warehouses and empty lots. It wasn’t clear which buildings were abandoned and which just didn’t have much activity at the moment.

They hadn’t seen another person since turning off the street that Julian guessed marked the border of Torr, but Garak remained alert as ever, his head always on a swivel.

Eventually they arrived at _some_ destination, though Julian had no clue where. They were behind one of the older warehouses in the area, lingering in a harsh shadow casted by the building. It was only slightly less sweltering in the shade, but any bit helped.

Only after Garak had pulled out a tricorder and scanned the area did he break the silence. “Well, this should be a good spot,” he said, keeping his voice low. He pulled off his mask and set it aside. “None of the surveillance in this area is operational.”

“A good spot for what?” Julian asked, removing his mask as well. Wiping the sweat off his brow, he gazed around to find nothing but uninspiring walls, the one in front of him blindingly bright as it reflected the afternoon sun. The wall behind him was nearly black by contrast, steeped in long shadows.

Wait, Garak hadn’t answered his question. “Garak?” he called softly, suddenly realizing he had lost track of the Cardassian. That was odd, he was just here…

He nearly jumped when Garak emerged from the shadows, eyes glinting. “Tell me, Doctor, are you still curious how I am able to withdraw my presence?” the Cardassian asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Once his heart had resumed a normal pace, Julian turned a glare on his friend. “Okay, now you’re just showing off.”

Garak just chuckled at the accusation before continuing his thought. “I’m not certain it’s even possible for a Human to learn this technique, but I can try to teach you if you’re interested.”

_Oh_. Julian’s eyes widened as he realized what he was being offered. “I’m very interested,” he assured him, nodding eagerly.

As Garak began searching around the sand, Julian set down his mask and watched him curiously, a little impatient for instruction to begin. A warm breeze rustled his light clothing, picking up the dust around his feet. He was so accustomed to wearing a mask that his throat felt suddenly dry, the threat of a cough tickling his lungs. Perhaps the Cardassian summer had begun.

“Ah, here’s one,” Garak said, reclaiming Julian’s focus. He was standing outside of the building’s shadow now, the sun beating directly on him. If he wasn’t careful he would get another sunburn, and then Julian would have to suffer through another diatribe about the uselessness of Human skin.

“Look, Doctor. But don’t get too close.”

Approaching the Cardassian’s side, Julian squinted in the sun and tried to follow Garak’s line of sight, his gaze angled toward the ground. All he saw was sand, sand, and darker sand where their shadows fell. Frowning, he was about to demand clarification when he saw it – a flicker of movement. Crouching lower, he watched the spot closely until it happened again. A little lizard-like creature, blending almost perfectly with its surroundings, was traveling through the sand, its pace surprisingly unhurried.

After they had observed the creature for a moment, Garak spoke. “This is a _regnar,_ ” he explained, reverting to the teaching voice he had been using all morning. “A blind little reptile commonly found in the wilderness, but you can occasionally find a few here. Watch its movements carefully.”

Furrowing his brow, Julian gazed intently at the creature as it crawled around in Garak’s shadow. Ah, that was interesting… “It only seems to move when the wind is blowing the sand,” he realized as he continued to study its movements.

“That’s right,” Garak replied, a smile in his tone. Lowering his voice a touch further, he added, “I learned how to withdraw my presence by watching these creatures.”

Julian straightened back up, eyeing the man with a sly grin. “I thought you said your friend Elim taught you.”

Garak returned his grin with a raised eyebrow, rather unconcerned for a man caught lying. “Elim learned from the _regnars_ first, then instructed me the way I’m instructing you. It was a joint effort,” he answered indifferently. “Now pay attention.” Returning his focus to the _regnar_ , he took a few steps to the side. “Watch how it moves to follow my shadow.”

The _regnar_ was indeed moving to follow Garak’s shadow, Julian noted in fascination. When Garak abruptly drew back, taking his shadow and leaving the creature exposed, it quickly altered its coloration to blend in with the bright sand. Somehow Julian doubted Garak could do that, even when he wasn’t covered in Human skin.

“That’s incredible,” Julian murmured. The _regnar_ was now completely still, probably waiting for the next breeze to shift the sands. After watching it for moment longer, Julian looked up at Garak, eager to learn. “So what do you want me to do?”

Garak took another step back, folding his arms across his chest. “Watch the _regnar_ for a few more metrics,” he instructed. “Then try to depress your energy by slowing your breathing and surrendering to your environment.”

Pretending he had a clue what that meant, Julian fixed his focus back on the _regnar_ , crouching down as far as he could without spooking it. But it didn’t seem to mind his presence, so he approached a little closer. From this distance he could see it breathing, its little body expanding and contracting ever so slightly. Slow breaths…that was easy enough.

After saying farewell to his little reptilian friend, Julian rose and returned to the shade before his body could become entirely sweat-drenched. Garak lingered somewhere in his peripheral, watching silently. At least he had the decency not to disappear again.

All right, he had to focus. He couldn’t let Garak’s presence distract him. Feeling too exposed out in the open, he withdrew to the building’s wall and pressed his back against the mercifully cool surface. Then he let his eyes fall shut, mind returning to his teacher’s words.

They still didn’t make any sense. How did one “depress their energy” exactly? He had studied the biology and physiology of many alien races, but none of them appeared to have that function. All right, there were certain telepathic species that had comparable abilities, but Humans were not among them. It sounded more like a metaphysical concept, something akin to the Bajorans’ _pagh_. But it couldn’t be _that_ hard, could it?

_Slow breaths._ Closing this eyes, he concentrated on the expansion and contraction of his lungs, trying to clear his mind of all distractions. He felt a calmness wash over his body, loosening the tension in his muscles until he was leaning limply against the wall. But his mind refused to empty itself, thoughts continuing to spin. Meditation had never been his forte, no matter how studiously he had followed Isam Helewa’s breathing techniques. Better focus on something, then.

_Surrender to your environment._ The wall was cool behind his back, the sand warm beneath his sandals. A gentle wind was kissing his skin, rustling his hair, while the distant hum of skimmers filled the silence. There was dust on the tops of his feet, on the ankles that were left uncovered by his short cropped trousers, a light covering of dust on his arms – ugh, it was probably in his hair too. No, focus.

He thought of the _regnar,_ Garak’s little reptilian teacher, moving with the sand. Perhaps if he imagined himself as the _regnar,_ disguising his movements behind the movements around him, altering his color to sink into his surroundings. Breathing only when the wind blows…

But no, he wasn’t a _regnar,_ he was a Human pressed against a wall, feeling a little clueless and ridiculous. Cracking an eye open, he found Garak where he had left him standing a few meters away. “Can you still see me?”

Garak’s eyes instantly grew wide, his lips parting and his eyebrows shooting up. “Oh my, where did the doctor go?” he asked, gesturing theatrically. “I can hear his voice but I don’t see him anywhere!”

Sighing in frustration, Julian stepped away from the wall. “I’m trying, all right?”

Garak restrained his amusement to a chuckle, but his twinkling eyes were enjoying this far too much. “It’s not a way to turn invisible, my dear,” he began, closing the distance between them. “If someone has already seen you, then they’re going to continue seeing you until you move out of their sight.” He placed a hand on the small of Julian’s back, hopefully unware of the red that suddenly colored Julian’s cheeks. “Here, step away from the wall.”

Swallowing, Julian allowed Garak to guide him a few steps forward, that hand still pressed against his back. But then Garak withdrew it, leaving Julian a little disappointed and far too distracted for his own good right now.

Garak was suddenly behind him. “Withdrawing your presence requires more than merely standing still,” he explained, his voice soft and mesmerizing. “You must remain calm and completely self-possessed. Any nervousness will betray you.” And to render his instructions entirely useless, he laid his hands on Julian’s shoulders.

_Shit shit shit._ Now was _not_ the time! If nervousness emitted energy that Garak could sense, Julian could only imagine what sort of energy arousal gave off. He needed to relax. They were just hands – hands on his bare shoulders, solid and possessive – and oh, they gave a little squeeze. It was like the Replimat all over again, that very first encounter when Garak’s intent had been shockingly clear, he was just too naïve and flustered to realize it back then…

And as if it wasn’t a completely stupid idea, he craned his neck back to meet Garak’s gaze over his shoulder. His eyes were maddeningly opaque, revealing nothing – ah, was that a little flicker of something? Of lust, maybe? Was he just as effected by this as Julian? He had to be, this _had_ to be flirtation. There was no way he could pretend this was friendly and innocent.

Oh god, his body was leaning back but he couldn’t stop himself. It was just like that vivid dream, only they weren’t in the shower and they weren’t naked…Maybe that would change this evening…

Wait, were they actually, finally, going to acknowledge what was happening between them? Garak couldn’t possibly be toying with him again, just for the fun of it, could he? He wouldn’t be so cruel, not after their reconciliation…

Shit, these thoughts were _not_ helping.

“Deep breaths, my dear,” Garak murmured, a whisper against Julian’s ear. “That’s it.”

Inhaling shakily, Julian forced himself to put a little distance between them. But he allowed Garak’s hands to stay. God, what had gotten into him? He was a mature and experienced adult, not some hormonal adolescent. Taking Garak’s advice, he focused on his breathing until some semblance of dignity had returned.

After another moment Garak continued his lesson as if Julian hadn’t just nearly swooned against him. “You must be an impassive observer, absorbing all of the energy around you while limiting the energy signals you give off. Everyone produces some energy signals, of course, but you can learn how to sense and control them…Now this stance could be improved,” he mused, spreading his hands out over Julian’s shoulders until they rested on his deltoids. “You must be confident but inconspicuous.” His hands slid down to Julian’s elbows, adjusting them to bend slightly. “You must be poised. Think about it like that game you enjoy playing with the chief – racquetball, I believe it’s called. I’ve seen the way you move when you play, gliding fluidly around the court. Well this is much the same way. Your body must be filled with latent energy, relaxed but ready to spring.”

Garak continued to adjust his limbs as he spoke, Julian all the while trying to contain his flustered arousal. Part of him was fighting to understand the concepts Garak was explaining, eager to grasp this technique, but another more willful part was reveling in the feeling of Garak’s hands on his body.

Then the hands withdrew from him and his cognitive faculties returned.

Garak was in front of him now, taking a step back to examine his work. Placing a thumb under Julian’s chin, he lifted it slightly before smiling in satisfaction. “There, much better.”

Julian blinked, suddenly uncomfortable under those perceptive eyes. He could hope that Garak would mistake the red in his cheeks for a sunburn, but the bulge in his trousers was harder to explain. Perhaps he hadn’t noticed yet…Oh shit, he certainly had. His eyes had flickered downward, just for a moment, but Julian had caught them.

And for a moment he was tempted – just a moment, though, before his common sense hit him like a backhand to the face. They were still in public, and even if the area seemed deserted, weren’t there eyes everywhere on Cardassia? Now was certainly not the time.

Searching for the perfect distraction from these thoughts, he settled on his medical curiosity. “But how can you perceive someone’s energy? Do Cardassians have any sort of special receptors, a sixth sense of some kind?” Though he had spent many hours studying the Cardassian respiratory system, there was still so much he hadn’t learned about the rest of them. Perhaps he had missed something. He had been told that their parietal eye – their _chufa_ , that was the Kardasi term – had lost its function after millennia of evolution, but perhaps that wasn’t entirely true. Well, now seemed like the perfect time to whip out his tricorder and investigate further…

But Garak pulled back from his eager little tricorder, rolling his eyes. “Always so inquisitive, Doctor,” he tutted. “The path to understanding this is not through mere knowledge or theory…Now, are you ready for a little game?”

The game turned out, despite Julian’s shameless imagination, to be little more than hide-and-seek. At first he wasn’t sure if Garak was serious, feeling rather ridiculous as he crouched behind a stairwell, playing a children’s game with _Garak_ of all people, until his friend appeared from nowhere and nearly startled him out of his skin. After that he tried harder, but the results were the same. No matter where he hid, and no matter how calm, self-possessed, and alert he was, Garak always seemed to come out of nowhere and find him. It wasn’t fair. His senses were designed to be sharper than most of his species, why couldn’t he see the Cardassian coming?

After his fourth failed round, Julian had had enough. “I’m starting to think this might not be physically possible for Humans,” he huffed, shaking the sand off his trousers.

“Don’t despair yet, Doctor,” Garak said, grinning widely. “Perhaps you’re a little unfairly matched against me, but I think you’d fare better against the average person. You’re improving already – it took me nearly two metrics to find you this time.”

Julian rolled his eyes, but when Garak started leading him on to his next lesson, he couldn’t help but follow eagerly.

The next location for Julian’s training proved far more scenic, but also far more public. The Central Market was packed with the late afternoon rush, thousands of people crammed among the stalls. But this, Garak assured him, offered the perfect conditions for his next test.

They huddled behind a produce stand as Garak relayed a few more instructions before sending him out on his own. “The key to disappearing in a crowd,” Garak said, voice barely audible through his dust mask, “is to blend into the collective energy. You must never panic, even when someone is nearby.”

Drawing a determined breath, Julian set out alone into the throng of people as a bevy of delicious aromas wafted by. He forced his mind to focus, ignoring his growling stomach as he repeated Garak’s words in his head, trying to visualize the concepts. Perhaps if he imagined a bubble around his body, expanding and contracting with the pace of his breathing. And confidence, he had to remember that.

But it didn’t seem to be working, he realized as he caught the eyes of yet another person. Even behind his dust mask he felt so exposed, his ineptitude on display for the world to see. Garak must be cringing at such a sorry attempt from wherever he was watching.

After breaking his concentration with another near collision, he let out a frustrated sigh and moved to the side of the path. Things usually came so easily to him, why wasn’t he grasping this? But he had never been much for metaphysical concepts, had he? He was a man of science. He had to understand the processes behind things, how and why they functioned. How could the body perceive and control the energy it emitted? If there was a practical explanation, Garak hadn’t seen fit to offer it…or had Julian just been too distracted?

Tennis, on the other hand, was something he did understand. And biomechanics. The eccentric and concentric contraction of muscles, the precise coordination of the body’s segments during every stroke – the legs driving forward, the shoulders and upper arms rotating, the torso twisting, the forearms extending…This was his domain.

As he slid back into the crowd he kept these principles in mind, the opposing gyroscopes of his hips and shoulders, the opposing flexion and extension of his quadriceps and hamstrings, the plantar flexion of his feet. Uncertainty soon gave way to his natural (or unnatural) agility and coordination, and he fell into a deliberate, unhurried gait, his motions fluid and confident. Before he knew it he was weaving among the people unhindered, avoiding their interest and touching no one. Everyone seemed to be going about their shopping undisturbed, paying him no mind.

After about ten minutes of this, Garak allowed himself to be spotted by flower stand, as if to reward Julian for his improvements. Once Julian had joined him, Garak pulled him close and brought his masked face to his ear.

“Well done, my dear,” the Cardassian said softly. “That may not have been my precise technique, but your movements were quite fluid regardless. Hardly anyone noticed you.” He glanced around for a moment until his eyes landed on something. “Care to celebrate this achievement?”

A wide grin spread behind Julian’s mask. “Celebrate?” he asked, intrigued. “What do you have in mind?”

 

* * *

 

“I can’t believe how much dust can accumulate,” Julian huffed, running a hand through his hair. God, it was filthy – how was he just now noticing this?

They were relaxing on the couch after a lovely home-cooked meal, part of their little impromptu celebration. The other part, well, that was in Julian’s hand: a glass of the finest _kanar_ on Prime, at least according to Garak. It wasn’t too terrible, actually, as surprising as that was. Compared to his previous experiences with _kanar,_ it was astonishingly pleasant. The consistency was thinner than the glass he had stomached at Kurat Tavern, and its color was an appealing gold. At first he had politely accepted a glass to wash down his meal, and then another because Garak offered so nicely, but then somehow he had ended up with yet another on the couch, the bottle easily within reach.

“Hence the masks. They serve several purposes,” Garak replied, brushing off the dust in his own hair. Once he had thoroughly dusted it, he leaned closer to Julian. “Ah, you missed some right here.”

Julian let out a little laugh as Garak ran his fingers through the hair above his ear. “Thanks,” he said, not even trying to hide his lopsided grin.

Perhaps he was a little livelier than usual, but it had been a great day, and Garak was particularly amusing this evening – and maybe a little intoxicating. But no, it wasn’t the _kanar_ affecting him, it couldn’t be. His favorite drinks, even whiskey, never really had _that_ much of an effect on his genetically enhanced brain, even if he had to exaggerate it when drinking socially. _Kanar_ was probably just as harmless, if a little more acidic in taste. Besides, it took quite a lot of whiskey to get him drunk.

The dust was probably gone now, but still Garak’s fingers persisted, coaxing a strand of hair gently behind Julian’s ear. “This length suits your hair nicely, Doctor. It’s becoming quite Cardassian.”

Julian’s eyes, which had nearly fallen shut under the pleasant little strokes, shot open when Garak’s hand pulled away. The Cardassian was blinking at him expectantly, waiting for a response.

“You think so?” Julian asked, touching the ends of his hair. It fell slightly past his ears now; his hair certainly grew fast when he left it alone. Maybe it was a little annoying in the heat, but that hardly bothered him anymore. “I think there’s something in Starfleet regulations against wearing it long, otherwise I might consider keeping it like this.”

Garak tutted, shaking his head in lamentation. “Sometimes I think Starfleet is purposely trying to make its officers unattractive.”

“Have they succeeded?” Julian asked with a laugh.

Garak’s eyes wandered over Julian’s face and body, his expression contemplative and completely, entirely innocent. “It was a valiant effort, but there’s only so much that can be done to this,” he decided, gesturing to Julian.

A flush of warmth rose to Julian’s cheeks, his trousers growing alarmingly tight. Garak was here, within reach, their knees brushing ever so slightly, but…

No, he would play it cool. He wouldn’t make a fool of himself like this afternoon, at least not yet. After all, he was Julian Subatoi Bashir, sophisticated doctor and part-time secret agent. He was the seducer, not the seduced. _He_ would be the _homme fatale,_ goddamnit.

Shaking off memories of the afternoon, he turned to his friend with an unconcerned grin. “Nice try, but it won’t work.”

Garak blinked, the picture of innocence. “What won’t work?”

Julian folded his arms across his chest, eyeing Garak warily. “Your flattery,” he replied, lifting his chin. “You won’t be getting any medical secrets from me, no sir. I’m a loyal Starfleet officer.”

The grin that spread across Garak’s face was far too delighted and far too dangerous to Julian’s self-control. And he probably knew that, the wicked reptile. “Of course, my dear, I would never _dream_ of trying such a thing on the incorruptible Dr. Bashir,” he promised, his eyes glinting with that damned mischief. “More _kanar?_ ” He lifted the bottle as an offering.

Well, his glass was quite empty... “Mm, please.” Once the problem was rectified, he threw back his head and took a swig. Ah, the burn wasn’t too terrible now. It was almost pleasant the way it tingled on the way down. “You know, this isn’t all that bad,” he decided, raising the glass to properly study its contents.

Garak didn’t seem very impressed by his generous assessment. “It took you three glasses to come to that conclusion?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s growing on me,” Julian admitted, shifting to fold a leg underneath himself. “I still prefer whiskey, especially the scotch Miles has locked away, but it’s much better than the _kanar_ at that tavern.”

“Ah. Well, Kurat Tavern isn’t exactly known for its fine _kanar_. It specializes in a different market.”

Julian raised an eyebrow, dipping his chin. “You know from experience, do you?”

After taking a sip – damn he was a slow drinker, his glass was still quite full – Garak deigned to reply. “My job has taken me to many interesting parts of this city.”

A wide grin spread across Julian’s face. He had to admit it, sometimes he forgot who Garak really was, what sort of deeds lay in his past. Hell, sometimes he even forgot that Garak was Cardassian these days. It was easy to forget that this pinkish skin and these wispy eyebrows and this mediocre haircut were all surgically created to disguise grey scales and ridges and sleek, black hair. Oh, but the skin on him now looked a little redder than normal, didn’t it? Blinking, he tried to examine it with his medical scrutiny, but somehow that eluded him. Too tired, probably. It had been a long day.

But yes, Garak’s face was definitely redder. Was it a sunburn, or something else? Ah, but why was Garak looking at him expectantly now? Right, it was his turn in this fencing match of theirs.

“Which job was that?” he rejoined as if there hadn’t been an awkward silence. “Hemming trousers? Growing orchids? Or am I missing one?”

Ah, but then that reptilian grin appeared and it most certainly was Garak, his Garak.

“My, you are quite the lightweight, dear Doctor.”

Finishing a swig, Julian exhaled loudly and wrinkled his forehead. “Am not,” he insisted, glaring at the liar. All right, maybe he was a _little_ tipsy…But only a little. “The Human body’s enzymes are just not well suited to metabolizing the alcohol molecules in _kanar_ , that’s all. See, I’m still coherent. I sound like a right and proper doctor…” He halted his diagnosis for another sip. “Dukat said the same thing, you know. About being a lightweight.”

Garak raised an eyebrow over his glass of _kanar_. “Dukat? I don’t recall you mentioning he was your drinking companion.”

What a mental image that created. Julian had to wait until he had given it the chuckle it deserved before explaining. “No, it was when I was at the tavern. He said it as a joke to the bartender when he ordered me a drink. Thought he was damned clever…I thought I told you that.”

Garak must have found the mental image amusing as well because his grin only grew wider and there couldn’t be any other explanation for that. “You were speaking so fast, I must have missed half of your story,” he said, draping an arm over the back of the couch. “All I know is that you somehow managed to survive the whole debacle without exposing yourself.”

Damnit, why did Garak have to look at him with those stupid sexy eyes? He was daring him to break – yes, like an interrogation – whittling away at his control until he finally succumbed. But shit, was there anything wrong with that? What stood in the way of this now? Julian’s inhibitions? Certainly not.

But should he act right now? No, better lead up to it first. Cardassians loved conversation after all. And if there was anything Julian knew, it was how to seduce a Cardassian.

“Impressed? I could teach you if you’d like,” he returned, offering his best shit-eating grin. Ah, but that reminded him…He shared a little laugh with Garak before proceeding. “You know, Garak, with how long we’ve been here now, you could’ve started training me earlier.”

“Well that’s hardly fair,” Garak answered, looking quite offended. “I’ve been providing you with instruction from the beginning, only not always with such a hands-on approach. Sometimes it’s better to take a step back and let you make your own discoveries.”

All right, that seemed like enough conversation, especially with those eyes still gleaming at him. Now was a good time. “Hmm…I think I prefer your hands-on approach,” he murmured, placing his hand on Garak’s thigh.

Their eyes met with a spark. But as lovely as those blue eyes were, bright and mysterious and swimming with what had to be desire, Julian found his gaze slipping downward and oh – was that a bulge? No, no, it might just be the way Garak was sitting, the way his trousers were wrinkled…But no, why was he second guessing this? It was clearly the perfect time for this. There would never be a moment more perfect than this. Well maybe not perfect, they were still wearing far too many clothes.

Slowly his hand slid up Garak’s thigh, its destination clear.

But then Garak pulled away and that lovely destination was too far out of reach. “My dear…perhaps we should get some air. It’s grown quite stuffy in here.”

Ah, yes, air. Air was good.

Shit, what had happened to him? Did he really just try to grope Garak? He had only had three glasses – well four, he realized as he found his glass empty once again.

Head swimming, he managed to rise from the couch with the room still intact and followed Garak onto the balcony. His face was burning and he needed to piss but that hardly mattered right now. He would follow Garak anywhere.

The sun was just barely visible above the horizon, its rays streaming through the neighboring buildings to pepper the balcony with little red spotlights. Garak withdrew from him, unusually quiet, and leaned against the balcony, looking out into the largest sliver of sunset.

When it was clear Garak wasn’t going to fold him into his arms and plunder his mouth, Julian came up beside him. Again Garak seemed to be pulling away, holding him at a distance. God, would this ever end?

“When will we ever stop dancing around this?” he asked, gazing out into the distance.

Garak turned to him, offering only a small, opaque smile. “Dancing, my dear? I’m afraid I’ve never been much of a dancer.”

Oh, no, he wasn’t going to obfuscate his way out of this one. Julian drew a step closer. “Oh, but you’re quite skilled at this dance, my dear Mr. G– Andy.” He touched Garak’s nose to punctuate his point.

Garak didn’t even flinch, his smile unwavering. “Doctor, you’re drunk.”

“But I haven’t always been,” Julian insisted. “This started _long_ before tonight and you know it.”

Damn, his voice was a little slurred, wasn’t it? Taking a deep breath, he looked back out over the balcony for a moment, trying to regain some semblance of sobriety. A slow, steady exhale followed. Ah, that was a little better. He turned back to find Garak sighing.

“My dear…as flattered as I am, now is hardly the time to be making such decisions, especially ones we may come to regret.”

Julian was able to focus his mind a bit more now, but he was still certain what he wanted. This thing between them, the teasing and the touches and the _so, so close_ , was hardly the _kanar’s_ fault.

“I wouldn’t –” But the protest died on his tongue. Garak was right, damn him. No matter how much he might desire this, Garak was still Garak – an enigmatic, unreliable, compulsively lying Cardassian spy…Unless he wanted to find himself fearing betrayal again, he had better take at least one more night to consider this. “…Fine. But promise me we’ll discuss this tomorrow when we’re sober.”

Garak, who wasn’t showing any signs of intoxication – well, perhaps the redness in his cheeks – didn’t bother correcting him. Instead, he placed a steady hand on the side of Julian’s face, fingers gently brushing his cheek. “All right. Tomorrow it is,” he agreed. He stared at Julian for a moment, sparks of crimson reflected in his eyes, before drawing him nearer and pressing their foreheads together. “Trust me, dear Doctor…you make quite a tempting offer.”

Julian’s eyes fell closed, entranced by this foreign and unexpected intimacy. Garak’s forehead was against his own, his hand on his cheek, their faces so close…He could almost feel Garak’s breath on his mouth. It would be so easy to…

But Garak pulled away _just_ before Julian’s lips could touch his, chuckling lightly. “Tomorrow, my dear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is so long! I'm not sure how that happened, but it's officially my longest chapter. Also yes, I was a little drunk when I wrote the last scene but that was on purpose. I wanted the prose to reflect Julian's tipsiness so I drank a bottle of hard cider at 3 in the afternoon and this is what happened.
> 
> I'm going to be honest...I only did the most basic research on hacking and biomechanics to write this chapter, so I wouldn't be surprised if it sounds stupid to anyone in those fields. Please accept my sincerest apologies.
> 
> Tune in next week for infiltrating the villain's lair and the first of many to come.


	22. Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian and Garak try a different way to find Dukat's plans. And the teasing continues.

Morning greeted him with a dry throat and a pounding headache. Groaning, Julian rolled over on his back and draped Kukalaka over his eyes as the lights in his room began to brighten. Just how many glasses of _kanar_ did he have last night?

Far too many, if this was how his body was thanking him. God, he couldn’t remember the last time his brain had writhed around in his skull like this. And brilliant, now his stomach was joining in. Swallowing thickly, he managed to keep the nausea at bay.

In the end he decided it was better to brave the lights instead of lie there in misery. Pulling Kukalaka off his face, he squinted into the orange glow, wondering why he had ever set his bedroom lights to automatic. And when had Cardassian lights become so bright, anyway?

Fighting back another wave of nausea, he managed to pull himself up enough to reach the first drawer on his nightstand, fumbling around until he retrieved his medkit. Ah, there it was. It was a good thing he still had some in his medkit, otherwise he would’ve had to stumble through a head-splitting trek to the replicator.

He pressed the hypospray to his carotid artery and then flopped back against the pillows, cringing as his head throbbed in protest. It took a few minutes for the hangover cure to have any effect, but slowly his body began to feel partially human again. He let out a breath.

But then the memories came rushing back, and with them the nausea. Well, it wasn’t actually nausea, but more of a warm fluttering deep inside his gut. He had really let everything slip, hadn’t he? So much for playing it safe, for waiting until he was absolutely certain this wouldn’t end in disaster…Not that you could really be certain of that, even with the average partner, and Garak was far beyond average…

But along with the memories of his loose tongue and wandering hands came the realization that Garak _hadn’t_ rejected him. He had been remarkably restrained given the circumstances, with Julian practically throwing himself at him, but he had made his own feelings quite clear – well, clear for Garak, anyway.

Garak _wanted_ him. And once he was certain that Julian wanted the same thing, that this wasn’t some alcohol-induced infatuation, then he would finally put an end to this exhausting game.

It was remarkable how quickly the hypo had cured him. New energy coursed through his veins, forcing him out of bed. And if he started humming a tune under his breath while he was pulling on his scrubs, that was only because – well, who was he fooling anymore? They were on the precipice of this now – just one small nudge and they would fall.

He strode out into the living room with a spring in his step, mind already buzzing with the possibilities of what might happen, what words might be said, what lovely acts might be performed – hell, there was still a good hour before their shift started. They could certainly fit in at least one round if they started now…But when he found Garak seated at the console, it didn’t seem that the Cardassian shared his enthusiasm.

Frustration was written clearly on Garak’s brow as he stared at the screen, a Kardasi curse slipping from his mouth.

“Is everything all right?” Julian asked, soon at his side. The console screen was filled with complex lines of code, only vaguely similar to the basics he learned yesterday.

Garak gave a little jolt, as if somehow he hadn’t seen Julian approach, and spared him a quick glance. “Oh, Doctor,” he said, heaving a little sigh. “Well, to be perfectly frank, no. I may have just destroyed our chances of ever accessing Dukat’s home console.”

Julian squinted at the screen for a moment, trying to make sense of it, but it seemed a level or two above what Garak had taught him. “What happened?”

Garak’s fingers swept over the controls as he replied, irritation leaking into his voice. “It seems his computer managed to detect and reject my program. It wasn’t able to trace it to its source, or else we would _really_ be in trouble, but I’m afraid any further attempts to access the console won’t end as well. Dukat will only increase security after this.”

Julian’s shoulders slumped. Well there went his plans.

“I see,” he said, his mental calculations trying to compensate for this setback. Now more than ever they needed to see what was on Dukat’s home console. There was no likelier place for his war plans to be, or at least _some_ damning evidence, otherwise it wouldn’t be so tightly secured. “Is there no other way to access it?”

Garak’s fingers stilled over the controls. Sitting back in his chair, he gazed off into the distance in clear deliberation, his brow furrowed and his jaw tense. “There is one other way…” he said at length. “But it may be even riskier. I had only wanted to consider it as a last resort.”

Julian took a step closer. “Well, a last resort might be our only option now.”

Garak’s gaze flickered up to meet his. “I’m well aware, Doctor,” he said a little brusquely. “Perhaps now you’ll believe me when I say I’m no master at remote hacking.” Then he released another breath, the irritation fading from his features. He seemed to debate the question internally for another moment before returning his attention to Julian, eyes brightening a little conspiratorially. “But local hacking, now that is another story…And today might just be the perfect opportunity for it.”

 

* * *

 

It was a bit tight, but he supposed it would serve its purpose.

Gazing into his bedroom mirror, Julian examined Garak’s newly finished creation with a flush of admiration. At first it had seemed a little unnecessary for Garak to go through all that trouble (he had most certainly spent last night working on this), but it was a little harder to doubt its appeal now. After all, what was a spy without a (gratuitously tight) catsuit?

The garment hugged his body with a stretchy fabric, lightweight and mercifully breathable. It covered him from neck to wrist to ankle in a deep navy blue, a color Garak assured him was perfect for stealth operations. Black was far too dark, he had explained, to occur in an environment where even a hint of light was present, and would only silhouette him against his background.

Julian held up an arm to inspect the sleeve, bending at the elbow a few times. Whatever this fabric was, it barely made a sound when he moved.

Really, the suit flattered him quite nicely, the fabric clinging to every curve of his lean, sinewy muscles…

His stomach interrupted his self-admiration with a little gurgle, still protesting the lunch he had skipped earlier. But if he had only known the first phase of their plan would go off without a hitch, he wouldn’t have spent his entire lunch pacing around his office, an ear on the ‘casts. Not that the ‘casts would have announced it if anything _had_ gone awry. But it was all he could do while Garak accompanied Parmak into the villain’s lair.

But luck finally seemed to be on their side. Not only did Parmak have an appointment scheduled at Dukat’s home in Paldar today, the three youngest children due for their exams, but Dukat turned out to be absent. Garak had assured Julian that Dukat wouldn’t recognize him anyway, especially if he disguised his voice, but Julian still hadn’t liked the idea. He had even suggested Telma go in Garak’s place, but Garak hadn’t been very fond of _that_ idea.

But he had worried for nothing, it seemed, when Garak returned around third bell to whisper his success. The plan had gone like clockwork. An innocent request to use the bathroom was all Garak had needed, giving him just enough time to complete the first phase and set the next in motion. Their shift seemed agonizingly long after that, but now they were nearly ready for phase two: the black bag operation.

Well, that’s what Julian was calling it, anyway. Garak found the name a little strange, as no black bags were involved, and preferred a Kardasi term that translated roughly into “intelligence gathering infiltration.” But where was the fun in that?

Looking back at his reflection, Julian found Garak approaching from behind, dressed in a catsuit of his own. It seemed he had used it as a reference for Julian’s suit, but the only noticeable difference was its looser fit, nowhere near as tight as Julian’s. But that little detail, like everything else with Garak, was most certainly by design.

Garak’s eyes roved over his creation with clear delight, admiring its design and stitching and probably (definitely) the body it clung to. There was little doubt of Garak’s approval as he placed both hands on Julian’s shoulders, offering a firm squeeze. Damn, he was going to make a habit out of that, wasn’t he?

Their eyes met in the mirror.

“I haven’t forgotten your promise, you know.”

Garak returned his stare with dancing eyes, his grin far too sly. “Ah, so you do remember last night? I wonder how many glasses of _kanar_ it would take to get you properly inebriated.” He made a show of looking contemplative, head tilted and bottom lip just the least bit pushed out. And he most certainly knew how that made him look.

All right, Julian was the first to admit that this sort of flirting was fun in small doses, but when it continued to drag on and on with no end in sight…well, _anyone’s_ patience would run thin. And Julian was a bit more impatient than the average person, or so he had been told.

He frowned back at the man. “ _Garak_.”

 A chuckle rumbled deep inside Garak’s chest. “My dear…” he murmured, erasing what little distance was between them. His chest was nearly flush against Julian’s back now, his mouth at Julian’s ear. “If we have this conversation now, we might never make it out the door.”

Heat surged through Julian’s body, every nerve ending on fire. God, it would _never end._ Of all the times for Garak to speak truthfully…

Julian’s tongue darted out to wet his lips.

But no, this game would have to continue for now. Heaving a sigh, he willed his mind to focus on something, _anything,_ beside the lovely tension building in his groin. “You do have a point,” he conceded. He refused to break their gaze, answering Garak’s teasing challenge with a pointed stare. “But once we get back, there will be no more escaping this.”

The smirk on Garak’s lips only grew, eyes shimmering under partially lowered lids. “Oh, believe me, I have no intention of escaping anything.” His gaze flickered downward, lingering not too subtly on the damning evidence of Julian’s interest. The suit was even less forgiving than his Starfleet uniform, outlining every contour of his arousal. “Yes, I believe this fits you _quite_ nicely.”

It would have been so easy to just whip around and lunge at Garak’s mouth, every urge practically demanding it – and the bed was _right there_ – but Julian forced his body into submission, glaring as he watched Garak’s reflection leave the room.

 

* * *

 

They traveled through the shadows, two specters veiled in night’s obscurity. Gliding down the sleeping streets, clinging to the grey between walls and buildings, evading the moons’ treacherous glow…

Or at least that was how Julian pictured it as he stumbled after Garak through the darkness, barely keeping sight of his partner. Those moons, no matter how beautiful or treacherous, were doing little to help him see. All the streetlamps and public viewscreens had shut off at eleventh bell, plunging Torr into near darkness, leaving only the moons and an occasional illuminated window to light their way. But Garak avoided these, of course, his steps somehow never faltering. Julian doubted that even Cardassian eyes could see much in this shadowed world.

Julian clutched his cloak closer to his body as they changed course to avoid a surveillance device. They had no choice but to lurk in the shadows; they were far too exposed otherwise. They had forgone their dust masks, blind enough already without the help of dim visors. But that left their faces more vulnerable, concealed only by the hoods of their cloaks. It was something, at least.

They were picking up speed now, Julian’s heart racing as they weaved their way through the silent district. Ah, but it was mostly excitement that quickened his heartrate, his nerves all but gone. His first black bag operation of sorts, how could he not be a little excited? The air was fresh, the night was cool, his movements were fluid and controlled now, and Garak seemed to know all the back ways to avoid active surveillance devices.

They continued their winding course for a few more minutes, nearly to Torr’s border now, when a wall suddenly appeared in their path. Garak stopped so abruptly that Julian barely had time to react, stumbling into his back with a sharp inhale. There was just enough light in the alley to see its dead end.

Garak took a step forward and examined the buildings that hemmed them in. He didn’t seem so certain now.

“What’s wrong?” Julian dared to whisper. He pulled back his hood to get a better look, squinting around at the dark, empty alley.

“This isn’t right,” Garak whispered back, eyes fixed on the offending wall. “This was a through street the last time I was here, I’m certain of it.”

Ah, it seemed even Garak didn’t know every inch of this labyrinthine city. Well, it was a minor setback, but certainly nothing they couldn’t –

A cold shiver ran down his spine, the hair on the back of his neck rising. _Voices._ Had Garak heard them? Yes, by the way he was tensing, he most certainly had. There it was again – two voices, from the sound of it, heading their way.

His eyes darted around in search of an exit, but it was useless. There were no doors or side streets, not even a way to scale the walls. There was no other way out but the way they came in, the way the voices were coming. They were trapped.

_Shit!_ No, he couldn’t panic, that was the last thing that would help in this situation. He had to focus – _put that mind to some use, Julian!_ – or what else was he good for? He searched the alley for any possible place to hide but there was nothing, no skimmers, no stairwells, not even a trash receptacle.

All right, well that still wasn’t a reason to panic. He could withdraw his presence, yes, that was an option! But no, his racing heart had other plans. If he couldn’t accomplish it in training, there was no way he could repress his nervous energy now. Garak could do it, probably – it looked like he was gearing up to try, drawing closer to the darkest part of the wall – but damned useless Julian would only give him away.

The phaser suddenly felt heavy on his hip, as if pulling his attention toward it. But god, he would rather it not come to that. There was only one other thing he could think of, one other method spies used to get out of these situations –

Julian shoved Garak backwards and pinned him against the side of the building, crashing their mouths together. There was only a moment of shock, a sharp intake of breath, before Garak curled an arm around Julian’s waist and started _kissing him back_ , opening his mouth to meet Julian’s demanding tongue. Their mouths slotted together a little too urgently for what this was, not fitting quite right, teeth clashing and noses bumping and breaths labored and –

Oh, Garak certainly knew what he was doing. In the pink haze behind his eyelids, Julian could almost pretend they were back inside the safety of their apartments, succumbing to desires long repressed. And god, how long had he been wanting to do this? Finally, _finally_.

But then the whispers reached his ears, dragging him back to reality.

“I think I heard someone heading this way.”

“Come on, Jaret, we have more important things to do than chase curfew dodgers.”

“This curfew was a direct order from the chief commissioner!”

“Yeah, but you know Mhevet would prefer to use our resources elsewhere.”

“Ahvni, you’re not seriously suggesting we disregard orders from the top? If this is discovered, we –”

A bright light shined in their faces, quashing any faint hope they might not be spotted. Breaking apart with only the least bit reluctance, Julian turned his face to find himself squinting into a blinding white field, two silhouettes peering at him.

“Oh, hello, Constables,” he said, as casual as if he had passed them on the street. But then his gaze returned to Garak and he saw how lust-blown those eyes were, how kiss-swollen that mouth was, and what was this stupid, fearless little part of him that could still be aroused during all of this?

“My darling,” Garak murmured sheepishly, fully aware the officers could hear him. “We really must stop meeting like this.” His hood had fallen back sometime in the course of their kisses, Julian realized.

One of the constables – Jaret, the male of the two voices – eyed them sternly. “What are you doing out past curfew?” he demanded to know.

“I think it’s quite clear what we’re doing,” Garak answered, all innocent confusion. “Unless this isn’t a common practice among Cardassians?”

God, that was hardly helping! But Garak could never resist the chance for snark, could he? Julian released the front of Garak’s suit, surprised to find it still balled in his fists, before stepping out of his grasp. “Oh shit, is it past eleventh bell already?”

The female constable – Ahvni, the man had called her – folded her arms across her chest, her posture a little more informal than her stiff-necked colleague. “It’s nearly twelfth bell now,” she informed, an impatient edge to her voice. “I’m afraid we’ll have to bring you in for violating the curfew laws of this sector.”

“And you can add public lewdness to that charge,” Jaret chimed in, eyeing Garak’s smile with undisguised distaste.

_“Public_ lewdness?” Garak repeated, eyes ridiculously wide. “Constable, I can assure you, we chose the most deserted alley we could find for this lewdness.”

Ahvni’s mouth stretched into a thin line, clearly unamused. “Why do it out here at all?” she asked. “You’ve been given accommodations by Foreign Affairs, I trust?”

Thinking fast, Julian settled on the first lie that presented itself, not wanting to take any chances with Garak’s attitude. “We have,” he answered, standing as casually as he could in a skintight catsuit he hoped the officers mistook for common Human attire. “It’s, uh, a rather delicate situation…He’s married, you see, so if any of his friends were to see him with me, well…”

Jaret scowled, impatience lining his features. “This is irrelevant to your charges. Now –” But he was cut off by the sudden, raspy cough that escaped Garak’s lungs. Flinching, the constable took a step backwards.

Julian glanced over at Garak, a little concerned by that cough, but Garak’s opaque smile hardly answered his questions.

Shooting her colleague a look, Ahvni dropped her hands to her side. “I’m going to need to see your identity rods.”

“Of course,” Garak replied, perfectly amiable. Stepping away from the wall, he took a second to adjust the cloak Julian had so thoughtlessly ruffled before fishing out their fast pass from his pocket. But instead of handing it to Ahvni, who was standing closer, he went out of his way to offer it to Jaret.

The male constable hesitated, glancing uneasily at Garak’s hand. Sighing impatiently, Ahvni reached over and took the rod.

Jaret turned his glower on Julian. “What about yours?”

Julian eyed the man curiously, careful to mask his suspicion. “That one covers both of us,” he replied.

The beep of Ahvni’s scanner confirmed the rod’s authenticity. “Ah, Dr. Parmak,” she mused, reading the access code on her little screen. “You work at Central Hospital.”

A wide grin spread across Garak’s face. “Yes, we’re good friends with Dr. Parmak,” he explained. “It’s quite a privilege to work with such a brilliant doctor. It seems his vaccine is the only thing protecting this city from a serious outbreak of the plague. Why, you two must benefit greatly from it, seeing where you work.” He cast a rather unimpressed look around the alley.

Julian forced his confusion behind a neutral gaze as he watched Garak, wondering just where he was going with this.

The scowl on Jaret’s face deepened as he took another step away from Garak. “We haven’t been called from the waitlist yet,” he informed brusquely.

Ahvni placed a hand on her hip, lips curving into a frown. “We’re not exactly a top priority,” she stated, a little bitter.

_Oh._ Oh, yes, this _might_ just work, Julian realized. It was risky, though, especially if they overplayed their hand. He just hoped Garak knew what he was doing.

Well, only one way to find out.

Julian gazed at the constables with wide eyes. “Oh dear,” he mused, as if realizing something terrible. “But you would be most at-risk to contract the disease.”

“How unjust!” Garak decried, turning to Julian with sorrow-lined features. “My dear, we must speak to Dr. Parmak first thing tomorrow morning about bumping these fine constables up on the waitlist…” He turned back to said constables, blinking innocently. “Provided we’re not locked up, of course.”

Jaret’s eye ridges knitted together as he cast a glance to his partner. As for Ahvni, it was clear she understood what was going on here. Sighing, she pinched the bridge of her nose before deciding.

“Since this is your first infraction, I’ll let you off with a warning. But if this happens again, you won’t be shown such leniency. Now I suggest you go home.”

Julian tried not to look _too_ relieved as the tension drained from his shoulders. Smiling gratefully, he received the rod back from Ahvni. “Of course. Thank you.”

Jaret regarded Ahvni with frustrated resignation, content to just glower as the offending Humans walked past him. But Julian hardly cared at the moment, a little too surprised and relieved and practically _glowing_. Had they really just bribed two Cardassian law enforcement officers – and gotten away with it? It was certainly not the most scrupulous thing, but far better than the alternatives. And besides, the constables who patrolled the underbelly of Torr really did need to be vaccinated.

Oh, but they had to keep up this ruse for a few moments longer, the constables were still watching them. It wasn’t hard to conjure up a lovesick grin as he slipped an arm around Garak’s waist.

But when he turned his head to look at Garak, he suddenly found himself on the receiving end of a kiss. It was short and chaste, just a quick press of the lips, but _Garak_ had initiated it, pulling back with a warm smile.

“Come, my darling,” Garak murmured, his voice full of promise. “We can finish this at home.” He glanced back over his shoulder with mischief in his eyes.

Julian kept his arm around Garak’s waist for a few blocks. The constables might have been following them, after all, and besides, it felt so nice to be this close to Garak. His body was still rushing with endorphins after that lovely kiss, if only they could have really enjoyed it…perhaps now they could.

But wait, they were out here for a reason. They might have narrowly avoided arrest, but they still had a job to do. Shaking those thoughts from his mind – there would be plenty of time to revisit them later – he withdrew his arm from Garak’s waist.

Garak turned to him with a wordless grin, pausing for just a second before grabbing his shoulder and pulling him aside, guiding him into the narrow gap between two buildings. A little breath escaped Julian’s lips, his heart rate quickly climbing as he waited for Garak to complete a quick surveillance check. Maybe Garak couldn’t wait either, maybe they could just get this out of their system now and focus on the mission afterward.

But Julian was a little disappointed when Garak turned around and just smiled at him, making no move to lunge or embrace. “Clever thinking back there,” he said, amusement coloring his whisper. Strange, there was no sarcastic twist of the lips that usually accompanied such remarks. He seemed just as delighted as Julian – perhaps more, if he was allowing some of it on his face.

Julian ran a hand through his dust-covered hair, a little breathless. “You can thank my ‘ridiculous’ spy novels for that one,” he shot back, keeping his voice low.

Garak quirked an eyebrow, tilting his head thoughtfully. “Ah…perhaps they aren’t _completely_ useless.” There was just a flicker of longing in his eyes, barely perceptible in the shadows, before his professional mask returned.

Ah, well, it had to be done. Taking another step back, just to ease the temptation, Julian paused to consider what had just happened. “But will this go on our record?” he asked.

Garak nodded, pulling the hood back over his head. “Oh, most certainly, or the constabularies are in worse condition than I thought.” He noticed Julian’s frown and continued. “But don’t worry, my dear, I doubt they’ll mention our curfew breaking unless they want their own conduct under scrutiny. And public lewdness is but a minor infraction, certainly not the worst thing we could have on our records. We’ll be required to pay a fine, but that should be the end of it.”

An ounce of tension drained from Julian’s shoulders. Having anything on Siddig El Fadil’s official record wasn’t ideal, but such a small thing wasn’t likely to get the attention of anyone who might recognize his face. It would have been safer if he could use the fake passenger manifest image on his official hospital ID, but also impractical. Anyone standing close enough could tell it wasn’t him, unless Cardassians really did think all Humans looked alike.

Still, a citation for public lewdness with _Garak_. On _Cardassia_. He swallowed a laugh as he pulled up his hood.

They took a few more minutes to catch their breaths before their eyes met with purpose, ready to set out again. The route Garak took him seemed even more labyrinthine than the last, and with that bit of backtracking it felt much longer. But the darkness certainly didn’t help his sense of time or direction. All he could do was trust that Garak knew where he was going this time. The route definitely seemed more roundabout, taking no more chances with obscure, narrow shortcuts.

After leaving Torr, they cut through the Munda’ar and Akleen sectors without incident, following a mostly straight path beside a tall, imposing fence.

Finally they made it to Paldar, parade grounds giving way to landscaped properties and commercial blocks. It was a little more difficult to find cover here without the pitch-black alleyways of Torr, but there was also less need to hide themselves. They wouldn’t be arrested for curfew dodging in this sector.

They traveled mostly by side streets as they progressed through the district, clinging to dense trees and bushes, fences and walls. There were only a few people out at this hour, just the occasional pedestrian taking a stroll, but they were able to avoid them easily enough by keeping to the shadows.

Garak didn’t seem any less confident here than in the other sectors, leading Julian down many obscure streets, cutting through the occasional garden or skimmer park. Yes, he had definitely been this way before.

Garak’s memory of Paldar served him better than in Torr, it turned out. After a long, weaving journey, they finally made it to their destination: a tall stone wall covered in dark climbing foliage. Crouched in the nearby brush, Julian looked over to Garak for instruction.

Silently, Garak motioned for him to stay put. He then pulled out a device from his cloak pocket – ah, it was the personal comm – and cupped his hands around its screen to shield its glow. After a moment, he looked up at Julian and shook his head.

Julian followed wordlessly as Garak led him onward, weaving through the trees that bordered the wall a few meters away. Once he had settled on another spot, Garak raised a hand to halt their progression.

Another surveillance scan told him this was the right place, but after relaying that to Julian with a nod, he spent a few more moments fiddling with the personal comm as they crouched in the brush. Oh, Julian realized, leaning closer to the device. He was deactivating the nearby surveillance, the reverse of what he had done at Veterans’ Bridge.

The night was nearly silent as he watched and waited, only the chirp of strange insects and the bay of distant hounds to ease the tension. Julian’s ears were alert for any sounds of danger, his hearing far more reliable than his sight at the moment.

But soon Garak’s hand touched his own, drawing his attention.

Meeting his friend’s gaze, Julian was a little confused when Garak started to tug lightly on his cloak. Really? _Now?_

His face must have betrayed his thoughts, because Garak shot him a withering look and rolled his eyes. Rising from his crouch, he proceeded to remove his own cloak and tuck it under a pile of leaves.

_Oh._ Of course, he knew that. Following suit, Julian shed his cloak and placed it beside Garak’s. There was no place for loose, rustling fabric where they were headed. Stealth would be critical.

They crept up to the side of the wall, bathed in near darkness. There were no streetlights at this section of the wall, the moons revealing only the faintest outline of its vine-covered surface.

Once Garak had hooked his comm securely on his belt, he started up the wall without ceremony. Julian stayed on the ground for a moment, admiring this new, strangely athletic side of the man, as Garak hoisted himself to the top of the wall. But by the time he turned around to offer his partner a hand, Julian was already at the top crouching beside him.

Garak regarded him surprise and just a little irritation as he paused to catch his breath. He must have noticed how steady Julian’s own breathing was.

After they had dropped down, they found themselves on a lush grassy lawn, because of course Dukat kept his property well-watered when there was a water ration at the other end of the city.

Pushing that thought aside, Julian followed Garak across the lawn to the side of the house until they had reached an arched window. He couldn’t help but hold his breath as Garak took hold of the window pane and began to manually slide it open.

No wailing alarm rended the night. Releasing his air, Julian watched as Garak continued pulling the window open, stopping when there was just enough space for them to crawl through. The Cardassian went first, disappearing into the darkness, before a hand shot back out to signal Julian inside.

Climbing in through the window, Julian paused to examine the little device that sat innocently on the window sill. All right, he was more than a little curious how it worked. It looked like a simple data clip, but somehow it had kept the window unlocked after Garak planted it at lunch, emitting signals that tricked the main security grid into reading the window as locked. It was rather brilliant, however Garak had managed it.

His admiration was interrupted by an impatient hand wave. After closing the window carefully behind him, Julian crossed the small bathroom to meet Garak by the door, his personal comm out and scanning. If Julian was reading the screen correctly, there seemed to be quite a few security cameras on the first floor of this house. But Garak only deactivated the closest one to their location, positioned somewhere down the hall to their right.

Once Garak had deemed it safe, he flipped his comm closed and tapped the panel to open the door. The hallway was silent and black beyond the threshold.

Perhaps Julian kept a little too close to Garak, but that was only because one wrong move could prove disastrous now. He wasn’t nervous, he kept telling his racing heart. Garak was here, and Garak knew where he was going. All Julian had to do was keep up and keep quiet.

Yes, Garak seemed to be quite familiar with the layout of the house, Julian quickly realized. The hallway was far too long, with many little tributaries branching out, but Garak never hesitated when they came to a corner. He always picked the right path, following a winding course to avoid the active security cameras.

Finally, after softly creeping up a flight of stairs, they arrived at the door to Dukat’s study. Exchanging a glance with Julian, Garak punched a code into the panel and the door slid open, the little _pssh_ of air echoing in the silence.

Julian dared not move for a few seconds after, listening for any sign of trouble. But the house remained asleep. He glanced back at Garak with a look of relief, earning a small smile in return. Then Garak’s professional mask returned and he turned to enter the room. Squinting into the black, Julian followed behind him. The door remained open.

Julian had only taken a few steps into the study when Garak turned around and met his gaze. By the bob of his head it was clear what he wanted Julian to do. It was a little disappointing, really, with the mysteries of the room calling out to him. But he would be a cooperative partner and keep watch by the door.

A sliver of moonlight shown in through the study’s massive window, bathing the room in a grey haze. There were shelves lining the wall and a set of comfortable furniture arranged in the middle. And there, near the window, was the console that even Elim Garak had failed to infiltrate.

As much as he wanted to watch Garak work, he had to remember his task. Lingering near the door, he turned back to peer out into the dark hallway, finding nothing but a silent void. He brought a hand to his forehead, wiping the sweat that had accumulated.

When he chanced a glance back at Garak, he found that his friend had donned a “simple tailoring tool” over his left eye. Julian still hadn’t a clue what that lens did, but it must have been important. The shadows played upon Garak’s furrowed brow as he leaned over the console, fingers flying. Julian turned his attention back to the hallway.

Oh, had something just moved in the shadows? No, there was nothing, just his eyes playing tricks on him.

All right, perhaps he was growing a little nervous, if his inability to keep track of the time proved anything. They had lingered too long, someone was bound to find them soon, the little beeps of the console were screaming into the silence. What was taking Garak so long?

Looking back a little impatiently, he found clear frustration written on Garak’s features. That didn’t look good. But all Julian could do was shoot him a questioning look.

Glancing up, Garak caught the look and answered with a reassuring nod. He had found something.

A little relieved, Julian returned his gaze to the hallway. His mind began wandering as he stared into the shadows, wondering just what Garak had found, and what more he might find. If this was enough, then Cardassia could be on the verge of avoiding a catastrophic mistake. And to think that this might be all it took to complete this assignment, just a little infiltration and intelligence gathering – well, and Garak’s limitless wealth of little tricks. Perhaps all those hours spent in front of the console wouldn’t have been necessary if Garak had only tried this bold move earlier in the game…

_Shit, what was that?_

A thud ripped through the silence. Garak’s head flew up to meet Julian’s gaze, and they knew it was time to go. Moving quickly, he removed his isolinear rod from the console and shut off the screen.

They left the room, pausing only long enough to tap the door closed, before they were off down the stairs. The thud had come from above them, so as long as they followed the same way they came in, they should be all right. They only had to make it there in time.

It was a little harder to control the sound of his movements as Julian rushed to keep up, every footstep _thump thump thumping_ with his heart. But the rest of the house had fallen silent, so maybe that thud had been nothing…or maybe this was the silence before the strike.

But they were nearly back at the bathroom now, just a few more turns and they would be safe.

Then there were footsteps, and he knew it wouldn’t be that easy.

The footsteps were coming toward them, probably just a few halls away. Julian stopped abruptly behind Garak, swallowing a startled gasp. The footsteps only grew louder.

They had to disappear.

Julian glanced around and a door presented itself.  Fumbling with the buttons, he grabbed Garak’s wrist and pulled them both inside.

A wall pressed against his back, metal hangers dangling above his head. A closet. Not the worst place to end up.

He dared not breathe as the footsteps crept ever closer, listening for any sign of discovery. But there were no voices, just footsteps, _clack clack clacking_ toward them. This was no time to panic, he had to stay calm, remember his Starfleet training, his stealth training. He was a Starfleet officer, he was used to the pressure, this was nothing…

Then a thud joined the footsteps. God, what _was_ that? There it was again…No, the thud wasn’t coming from outside in the hallway, it was closer than that…

Garak’s breaths filled the silence, shallow and ragged and _loud,_ wide eyes glowing in the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost cut the kiss scene when I was first plotting this story out because it's so cliche. But then I realized that spy cliches are most of what Julian knows at this point, so why not have him take advantage of a fake-out make-out? :D
> 
> There probably won't be a new chapter next week. I'm going on a vacation for five days and I really don't want to rush the chapter. I've been looking forward to this one for a while now so I want to give it the attention it deserves.
> 
> Tune in next time for the greatest weakness of all.


	23. Sentiment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian and Garak have a conversation on the Tarlak Grounds.

This wasn’t good. Garak’s breaths were coming out short and rapid now, close to hyperventilation, and it was all too loud, the footsteps outside were bound to hear him.

God, what had gotten into him? Garak was a master at withdrawing his presence, decreasing his energy and blending into the shadows, but now, when danger was imminent and silence was most needed…Now his body had decided to betray him.

Squinting, Julian tried to make out Garak’s features in the darkness. Only the faintest glow of grey was coming in under the closet door, barely enough to see the gleam in Garak’s eyes. _Panic._ Julian pressed a finger to the Cardassian’s carotid artery, the pulse beneath racing under his touch. No, this wasn’t good at all.

Garak had begun shaking now, hunched over with both hands braced against the walls, pushing and pushing, _thud thud._ Yes, much too loud, someone would find them soon, but Garak’s eyes were glazed and terrified, jerking like a trapped animal, and suddenly it made sense.

Faint words tumbled out of Garak’s mouth, repeated over and over. _“Get a hold of yourself!”_

Julian withdraw his finger from the rapid pulse and brought a hand to Garak’s back, right between his shoulder blades, careful not to press too closely to the man.  “Shh…” he whispered, rubbing in soothing circles. “Deep breaths, my dear. Think of the _regnar._ ”

It didn’t seem to have any effect. Garak appeared unreachable in his blind panic, but Julian continued his measured breathing anyway, repeating calm words in Garak’s ear. Then, gradually, Garak’s breaths began to slow to match his, and after a few more moments, there was a normal respiratory rate beneath Julian’s hand.

When Garak’s eyes met his, the haze and terror were gone. He shook his head, a wordless apology, as his eyes fell closed.

They remained that way for a long moment as Julian continued to rub the Cardassian’s back, focus returning to the outside of their little – far too little – closet. Somehow the door hadn’t been pried open yet. The footsteps were still there, yes, there they were, but – _oh._ The sound was fading. They were walking away!

Then the house plunged into silence.

Garak’s breathing still sounded a little labored, but outside their closet there wasn’t a sound. The footsteps were gone. They hadn’t been discovered.

Julian let out a breath.

Did he dare trust it? Garak had sounded so loud with his breathing and banging, there was no way the owner of the footsteps hadn’t heard him. Was Cardassian hearing really so different from his own? Or had his anxious mind been playing tricks on him all along, amplifying the sound to his ears?

He let another stretch of silence pass, just to be certain, before deciding. Yes, it was time to get Garak out of here. He may have regained control of his breathing, but the glimmer in his eyes was far from calm.

Slowly they crept out of their hiding spot, heads on a swivel as they examined the empty hall. Yes, it was indeed empty. Garak even ran a scan to confirm it. But they weren’t out of the woods yet. There would be no celebration, as far as Julian was concerned, until after they had crossed the threshold back into their apartment with no constables beating on the door behind them.

Julian looked back at Garak, ready to take the lead if needed, but Garak was already brushing past him, frowning and resolute.

Whatever exactly had happened to Garak, he seemed to have bounced back remarkably quickly, or at least that’s what he had decided to portray on his rigid mask. But as he led them back out through the bathroom window, pausing to reactive the security cameras, Julian watched him carefully. He wasn’t fooled. Garak was still suffering from the residual effects of his panic attack – there it was in the crease between his eyebrows, the tension in his shoulders. 

But Julian stayed quiet and focused on the task at hand, pocketing the data clip as he slid out the window behind Garak. When they had crossed the lawn, scaled the wall, and retreated into the brush, Julian felt some of the tension leave his own shoulders as he shrugged into his cloak. They were out.

Their journey home was mercifully uneventful, following roughly the same route they had come. The moons were slowly sinking toward the horizon now, but there were a few hours left before the sun would peek up over the city, bringing the heat with it.

As soon as they entered their apartment, Julian retreated to his bedroom. The catsuit may have been breathable, but it wasn’t entirely sweat-proof, especially when worn on such a night as they had just had. Better change into something a little looser, unless he wanted….

Well, yes, he still very much wanted that. But there were a few other things they needed to take care of first, and unless Garak had other, more amorous plans, Julian would be patient for a little longer. He had waited this long, after all.

After pulling on a fresh pair of scrubs, Julian emerged into the living room to find Garak already changed and seated at the console, an isolinear rod peeking out of the connection port. Julian was soon beside him, scanning the screen eagerly.

“Did you get it?”

Garak withdrew his hands from the controls, gaze still fixed on the screen. “I ‘got’ something, but not what we were expecting.”

Julian peered a bit closer, examining the data they had retrieved. Hmm. It certainly didn’t look like war plans – no star charts, no offensive strategies, no coordinates of bases or shipyards. There did seem to be some sort of coordinates, though, alongside a list of other pieces of data.

“Are these comm records?” he asked.

Garak frowned. “No, this is just a relay log. The actual transmission records have been erased, no doubt for good reason. This was all I was able to recover from the isolinear data subprocessor: a name, time code, and coordinates for each record.”

Julian leaned over Garak’s shoulder to get a better look at the logs scrolling down the screen. “But no plans?” If they had gone through all that trouble for nothing…

“No,” Garak confirmed, causing Julian’s shoulders to slump. “Perhaps they were on his computer at one time. People rarely protect family holo-pics and flatbread recipes with such complex security protocols.”

Ah, but maybe it hadn’t been a complete waste. “Were you able to do anything about the protocols that were preventing you from accessing it remotely?” Julian asked.

Garak sat back in his chair with a little huff. “No. The computer required an access code to override them, but we were interrupted before I could find a way around that.” Frustration was dancing clearly upon his forehead, but there was something else. This was frustrating, yes, but that glint of anxiety had also returned to his eyes.

“Well this is better than nothing, right?” Julian asked, hoping his lopsided smile was enough to brighten the mood. “We can go through these names and see who Dukat’s been frequently contacting and –”

But Garak’s sharp inhale cut his words short.

“Are you all right?” Julian asked, scanning the man intently. He was pale, yes, very pale, and his pupils had dilated slightly. Oh, and there – a slight tremor in his hand.

“I’m fine,” Garak dismissed, shifting under his doctor’s scrutiny. His gaze darted all around, bouncing off the walls and the ceiling before returning to the screen, blinking forcefully. “Yes, if we go through all these logs, we may just find something to make all of that worth the hassle.”

Garak wasn’t fooling anyone. It was clear he was still troubled, and more likely than not, their current location wasn’t helping. The apartment _was_ quite small, and by the way Garak kept glancing around, it seemed he had noticed.

Even so, he knew Garak enough to avoid the direct approach. That only worked as a last resort, usually, and never left Garak in the best of moods. Best not strike any discord between them now, especially when things were going so unusually well.

“Well we probably won’t accomplish much now. We have little over an hour before our shift starts.” Julian laid a hand on Garak’s, stilling it over the controls. “Why don’t we, I don’t know, take a walk? It should still be a little cool out, and I have yet to see a Cardassian sunrise.”

Garak seemed to consider it for a moment, a little incredulous as he pursed his lips. He probably saw right through Julian’s motives, but ultimately agreed without too much fuss. In fact, he looked a little relieved.

“All right. I will indulge you,” the Cardassian relented, rising from his chair. When he met Julian’s gaze, the hint of a smile had brightened his eyes. “There is one place I know where the sunrises are quite spectacular.”

 

* * *

 

The sun was just peeking over the monument-speckled horizon, crimson rays warming the cold, austere angles of Cardassia’s tributes to her dead.

The Tarlak Grounds, Garak had told him as they passed through the twin arches, was the largest park in the city, and by far the most beautiful. That last part was Garak’s own editorializing, but Julian found no arguments to counter it. An expanse of gentle green slopes stretched before them, embroidered by crisp white walkways that leisurely wound their way across the greensward. Beds of flowers added colorful splashes to the soft greens and austere whites of the park. There were only a few people strolling the walkways at this hour, but it was still early.

Great _ithian_ trees, perhaps the tallest Julian had seen, emerged from the landscape with full copper-covered boughs, offering a bit of shade from the relentless sun. But the sun was still making its ascent now, and the warmth had not yet reached insufferable levels, so Julian felt quite content in the open.

And of course, a Cardassian park would not be complete without monuments. There were even more here than at the Veterans’ Bridge, only these structures seemed far more abstract and minimalist than the life-like sculptures of the legates. Geometric slabs and angled obelisks bordered and speckled the park, concentrated at the middle of the plaza. This looked like the center of the park, the main attraction, with benches to rest upon while you contemplated the majesty of your forefathers.

But Garak, it seemed, was not in the mood for such patriotic reveries, and took Julian off the main path before they could enter the plaza. They ascended a slope and scaled a short wall before Garak decided it was a good spot to watch the sunrise, sitting in the shade safely out of view.

Setting aside their dust masks, they fell into easy conversation, gazes fixed on the horizon as swirls of red flickered against the grey sky. It was quite nice here, Julian decided as he stole a glance at Garak. With singing birds and chirping insects, fresh grass beneath them and boughs swaying above them, this was just the sort of environment Garak needed right now.

After a while their light conversation drifted off into a companionable silence, both admiring the sunrise as a warm, dry breeze blew past them. Garak seemed utterly content now, his body far more relaxed than Julian had seen in a while. His chest was rising and falling with deep, calm breaths. Perhaps now he would be more open to discussing what had happened.

“It’s all right, you know,” Julian said softly. “Claustrophobia is a very common psychological condition.”

Garak’s gaze remained fixed on the horizon, jaw tensing slightly. “Spare me your diagnosis, Doctor. I’m quite aware of my own condition.”

Or perhaps not. Julian turned back toward the sunrise, falling silent. He could argue and offer solutions and insist he was only concerned for Garak’s wellbeing – and, well, after the wire incident he didn’t exactly trust Garak to properly care for himself – but what would that accomplish now? They had finally reached a good place in their relationship, trust was growing on both sides (or so it seemed). He was not about to strain that now. Besides, there was only so much he could do with such a stubborn patient.

A sigh cut through the silence. “I’m sorry, my dear, that was a bit harsh.” Garak turned his face toward Julian, his gaze softening. There seemed to be something sincere, something unguarded in that expression. “I know you were just being the good, attentive doctor.”

And that wasn’t something you heard from Garak every day. A smile tugged at Julian’s lips as he met those blue eyes. “And you were just being the impossible patient, but I’m quite used to that.” He rested his hand lightly atop Garak’s, just a fond little stroke, as he looked back at the horizon. The sky was alight with red flames now, the sun slowly climbing higher and higher over the monuments. “It’s beautiful here.”

Garak inhaled deeply, leaning back against the wall behind them. “It is.” He turned his hand over to grasp Julian’s, offering a squeeze. “You should have seen it when the Edosian orchids were in bloom. Now that was a sight to behold.”

Julian smiled down at their clasped hands. “You came here often?”

“Yes, quite regularly for many of my early years,” Garak answered simply, turning his head to survey the landscape. “My father was the groundskeeper here. Most of what you see is his design.”

Inhaling the unusually clear air – such a relief after days of high dust levels– Julian took another moment to admire the view. “Ah, well he did a remarkable job.” He paused, another thought on the tip of his tongue.

But no, better not mention that. He should just enjoy Garak’s uncharacteristic openness right now. No need to bring up that topic, it would just put a damper on the conversation.

Still, he couldn’t help but think his own father could have learned a thing or two from Garak’s father, now that landscape architecture had become his latest foolhardy endeavor.

He scrubbed at his face, looking for a more pleasant topic to discuss. Damn, that was itchy _._ He hadn’t had a chance to shave this morning, as his stubble was promptly reminding him.

Glancing back up, he found the monuments now completely engulfed in a red glow, light reflecting off their translucent surface. Ah. This was probably the only time Julian could have used the word “beautiful” to describe a brutalist Cardassian monument.

“You know, I didn’t expect to see such beauty on Cardassia,” he observed. Well, that had come out a little more rudely than intended, but Garak knew what he meant.

Garak only smiled and shook his head. “Beauty is such a subjective concept, Doctor,” he tutted. “But you’re not alone, I’m afraid. The predominant Federation expectation of Cardassia seems to be sand, dust, and corruption.”

Julian let out a little laugh. “Well you have to admit the last one is true,” he returned. Well, they were all true, but the last was a little harder to get acclimated to. “This garden _is_ very beautiful, but when the people of Torr have to line up for their daily water ration, don’t you think priorities could –”

A loud yawn interrupted his argument. Garak’s gaze settled back on the horizon, muttering to himself, “My goodness, he can still rant about politics without a metric of sleep?”

Julian leaned a little closer, disrupting Garak’s private conversation. “And you can’t? I thought there was nothing you loved more than a spirited debate.”

Garak raised an eyebrow, quite unimpressed with Julian’s cheeky grin. “And I thought there was something you would much rather be discussing right now than the city’s water rationing policy…or perhaps you’ve already had your fill?” Mischief danced in his eyes.

Oh, they were going to play _this_ game…All right. It was about time.

Julian let out a properly indignant huff. “You know, that wasn’t exactly how I pictured our first kiss.”

Both eyebrows shot up in return. “I don’t see why you’re complaining, as you were the one who initiated it,” Garak replied, equally and very genuinely offended.

“Well it wasn’t as if we…”

Garak flashed his most disarming smile, stopping Julian’s retort in its tracks. “But tell me, my dear, how did you picture it?” Such an innocent question, if only the flicker of lust in his eyes hadn’t betrayed him.

“Hmm…” Julian’s gaze rested unabashedly on Garak’s mouth, tongue dipping out to wet his lips. Yes, Garak definitely noticed that, his gaze had drifted down as well…

“I don’t think I’ll tell you.”

“Oh?” Garak asked softly, eyes flicking back up. “And why not?”

Julian leaned his face teasingly close – but oh, not yet – as he gazed at Garak under hooded eyes, lashes fluttering. “Because these sorts of things are best demonstrated, wouldn’t you agree?” he nearly purred. Garak was lucky, really – he didn’t use this seductive voice on just anyone. “After all, words can only describe _so_ much…”

But Garak – that stubborn, self-sabotaging disaster of a Cardassian – wouldn’t just take what was eagerly offered him. He didn’t pull away, at least, as he countered the argument with a teasing grin, his words almost caressing Julian’s lips. So close.

“Ah, but it’s so rare to find you at a loss for words, my dear, and you always use such delightful language. Perhaps if Standard falls short, Kardasi may –”

But Garak didn’t seem too intent on continuing his rebuttal now. Julian smiled a little smugly as he pressed a kiss to that infuriating mouth, all lips but bruisingly firm. Yes, that certainly did the trick. In fact, Garak felt quite yielding against him now, releasing his initial surprise through a breath from his nose. Julian allowed the kiss to linger only a moment longer, fingers tickling the nape of Garak’s neck, before he pulled back to admire his work.

Garak blinked, losing the war with his delighted grin. “Ah…That was _eloquently_ put, Doctor.”

Yes, he could definitely get used to this. Julian easily surrendered to his own lopsided smile, stretching ear to ear. “I knew it’d be satisfying to shut you up like that,” he murmured, running a finger along Garak’s jaw.

God, he was ridiculously happy, and maybe a little triumphant, and oh, _quite_ a bit aroused, but he couldn’t help it. Had first kisses – well, third to be precise – always felt so lovely? The first two had been quite exciting in their own right, but now they were alone. Now they could _really_ have some fun.

“But my dear,” Garak protested, eyes excessively wide. “I was under the impression that you _enjoyed_ my conversation.” Still playing this game. He seemed to revel in it.

“Mm, normally I do, but right now I think I’d rather interrupt again.”

But before Julian could claim that mouth for another kiss, Garak pulled it out of reach, taking the rest of him with it. “I don’t think that would be wise, my dear.”

And just like that, his triumph was snatched away.

“Really? We’re _still_ going to play this game?” Julian groaned, drawing back. Not now, not when they had already come this far. He had been patient for long enough! God, the man was _ruthless_.

Every ounce of frustration was returning in waves, creasing his forehead into a thousand furrows. “There’s no reason why we can’t try this! And don’t you dare lie to me, I know you want this just as much as I do. We’ve been dancing around this for ages and I’m sick of it, because honestly I don’t know how much longer I can share an apartment with you if you keep teasing –”

A finger pressed against his lips.

“My, you’re certainly _quite_ eager to bed me,” Garak murmured, glancing down at Julian’s not-so-subtle bulge.

Warmth rose involuntarily to Julian’s cheeks. But really, Garak was hardly one to talk, if his own trousers were any indication.

“But unless you want another public lewdness infraction,” Garak continued. “I suggest we wait until after our shift to finish this, ah, conversation.” He met Julian’s gaze again and there it was – desire practically _burning_ in his eyes.

But it passed far too quickly, replaced by a scrutinizing frown as Garak trailed his finger down Julian’s chin, brushing the rough stubble that peppered it. “And I’d really rather you shave this fur first.” He withdrew that hand and brought it to his own chin, scratching the somehow-still-smooth skin. Artificially induced facial hair must not grow as fast.

If Garak was trying to lessen Julian’s desire with insults, it wasn’t working. God, he really was in too deep now, if such comments hardly irritated him anymore. If anything, it only made him more aroused. Shit _._

Garak’s caution would have made perfect sense to a rational Julian, but he wasn’t exactly in the mood to be rational at the moment. Really, he would have welcomed all the infractions in the Cardassian judicial system if he and Garak could just roll around in the grass and finally satisfy this hunger.

But no, he wasn’t _quite_ that desperate yet, he had to remember. There was something a little more important to consider, yes, even more important than Garak’s relentless teasing. Such an act would be too great a risk to their assignment, and that was something they could not afford anymore. And there really wasn’t enough time to get this all out now, he realized as he glanced at his wrist comm. He would just have to continue waiting, as impossible as that sounded – but only a little longer.

Then he would make Garak pay for this agonizing wait, oh yes, in so many lovely ways.

He put a little more distance between them, as if that would ease the temptation. “Fine,” he relented, folding his arms across his chest. “But if you don’t keep your distance today, you might find yourself pulled into a storage closet –” Oh shit, no, poor choice of location! “–Or an exam room,” he quickly amended.

Garak just chuckled, quite amused by Julian’s suffering, as if he didn’t feel the exact same way himself. “As lovely as that sounds, my dear, I have a different plan for our first coupling.”

 

* * *

 

The effects of their sleepless night seemed to strike just as they arrived at Central Hospital, driving Julian to the nearest breakroom for a cup of _gelat._ Garak was needed to help manage the front desk and couldn’t join him, but that was probably for the best. There was no point in being constantly reminded of what he still couldn’t have.

He was yawning over his freshly-replicated mug when Parmak walked through the doors and greeted him, but he could barely return the greeting before another yawn broke free.

“Oh my,” Parmak said, removing his mask to reveal a grin. He leaned a little closer, lowering his voice. “I hope he didn’t keep you up _all_ night.”

Heat shot to Julian’s cheeks, reddening his face. Brilliant, now even Parmak wouldn’t let him forget, perceptive as always. Damnit, he had been grinning like an idiot, hadn’t he?

Still, even in his flustered embarrassment, that smile refused to leave his face. “Oh, no, Andy and I didn’t…” And even if they had, it wasn’t as if he would go gushing about it to Parmak. He had more discretion than that. “I just had trouble sleeping last night, it was too hot – because of the climate, of course – Humans just aren’t suited to this climate and it had nothing to do with –”

Parmak’s chuckle saved his excuse from derailing any further. “Of course, Doctor, forgive the assumption. You just seem to be smiling a bit more than usual this morning.”

“Am I?” Julian asked, practically beaming. “I hadn’t noticed.”

He tried to curb his delight a little more after that, but it was difficult when his insides were still bubbling with anticipation, his mind set on tonight. Not only would it be his first time with Garak, but it would be his first time in quite a while. He hadn’t had sex in a whole sixty-five days, and that last one had been a rather disappointing one night stand, a girl he hardly knew.

But tonight would be different. This tension and attraction had had enough – _too much_ – time to simmer, that whatever they did tonight was destined to be wonderful. And Garak had such a way with words, such a suave and charming demeanor, such an ability to excite with a mere glance or touch, and when his eyes darkened in that seductive, almost predatory way, oh – he had no doubt Garak would be a skillful lover.

And who knew how long it had been since Garak’s last intimate encounter? Hopefully quite a while. And he probably never experienced it in his current body. How different would it be, Julian wondered, from what Garak was used to? Perhaps _he_ would suddenly have the advantage…Oh, what an interesting element that would add.

These thoughts remained in the back of his mind throughout the day, quite detrimental to his focus. More than once he had to strategically place himself behind a table as he conducted research in a lab full of nurses. Even if the average Cardassian didn’t realize what a bulge in a Human’s trousers meant, he would rather not take any chances.

But Garak kept his promise, staying away from him whenever he could. Gradually Julian’s distraction began to fade, and by the early afternoon he had fallen back fully into his work. It was then that he remembered to bump those two constables up on the vaccine waitlist – Ahvni and Jaret, those were their names. His clearance level allowed him to adjust the waitlist without any outside authorization, so he arranged them to be called that evening after his shift.

By late afternoon his distraction had dulled to a vague thought, barely present in his mind, as he admitted a new patient into the isolation ward.

An examination was required before she could be officially admitted, but there wasn’t much doubt that she was infected. Her cough bore that same deep, raspy sound that all his plague patients exhibited, and she appeared very pallid when her mother ushered her into the waiting room.

The girl looked around sixteen years old by Human standards, and by the looks of it, she came from a wealthy family. She and her mother had been vaccinated, he learned, shortly after the vaccine had been developed, their status giving them high priority. But it seemed this could be the first known case of plague vaccine failure, since Pa’Dar didn’t count.

After running a few tests on samples of her blood and lung tissues, it became clear that the girl had contracted the plague. Frowning, Julian catalogued the results into the hospital’s database before heading back out to break the news to the mother.

Once he had stepped out of his biocontainment suit and replaced his sanitary mask, he entered the waiting room to find the mother pacing anxiously. This was never an easy part of his job.

“How is she, Doctor?” the woman asked, stopping as soon as he walked through the doors. Worry lined her partially masked face.

Julian’s expression remained neutral as he delivered the bad news. “I’m afraid it is the Rudellian plague. Vaccines can fail to immunize sometimes, either due to improper administration or the patient’s genetic disposition, and it looks like this is such a case. I haven’t isolated the reason behind her failure to generate antibodies from the antigenic stimulation, so it may…”

He trailed off when he saw distress come over the mother’s features – quite elegant as they were, he couldn’t help but notice.

His gaze softened, his tone a little more encouraging as he proceeded. “But I’m in the process of developing a cure right now, and there are several effective symptom suppressors I can give her.”

The woman seemed to gain control over her expression, nodding solemnly. “Will she have to remain here?”

“I’m afraid so,” Julian answered. “She’ll become even more contagious as the disease progresses. I should examine you in case it may have already spread. Has she been in regular contact with anyone else? Her father, maybe?”

“Oh,” the mother said, sounding a little surprised by the question. “No. Her father isn’t around anymore.”

Perhaps that wasn’t the most delicate of questions, but at least that made things less complicated on his end. “I see. Well.” He glanced down at his padd to read the mother’s name. “Mrs. Lokar, if you’ll follow me…”

The mother shook the worry off her face as she looked back up at him, eyes smiling. “You don’t need to be so formal. Call me Palandine.”

They passed through the field-protected doors into the biocontainment storage room and there was Garak, retrieving a suit from one of the bins. Julian smiled, staying quite professional as he started to introduce his favorite nurse to the woman.

When Garak looked up, he dropped the suit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm evil.
> 
> Tune in next week for a struggle with ghosts.


	24. Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian's evening doesn't go quite as expected.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Nurse Robinson.”

No warm words of welcome answered Palandine’s greeting, no hand offered for a press of palms. Garak seemed frozen under the woman’s smiling gaze, the biocontainment suit crumpled at his feet. Was he all right? His face looked pale behind his sanitary mask, and what was that glint in his eyes?

But in an instant his composure slipped back on and Garak stooped to gather the suit. But the mask was not perfect, no, there were a few small cracks as he gave Palandine a polite nod, gaze fleeing her eyes to examine his wrist comm. His movements were quick and rigid as he brushed past them, placing the suit back in its bin.

He spared Julian a glance, clearing his throat. When he spoke, his voice came out low and rough. “If you’ll excuse me, Doctor, I’m needed in Laboratory D.”

Well that wasn’t much like the Garak he knew, or his amiable nurse persona for that matter. Julian followed Garak’s departure with his eyes, unable to keep the confusion off his face. Was he still suffering from residual anxiety after his panic attack, perhaps? That seemed the most likely diagnosis, but there was something a little off about his symptoms, and what could have triggered it? It wasn’t as if they were crowding him, and the room was hardly confining.

Turning back to Palandine, he hoped that she hadn’t noticed anything too strange and could continue on to the exam. But no, his own confusion was reflected in the woman’s eyes.

“I hope he’s all right,” she said.

“I’m sorry about that,” Julian apologized. “He wasn’t feeling well this morning. I’ll see about letting him off his shift early.”

He steered their conversation away from that meeting as they stepped into biocontainment suits, and by the time the exam as underway Julian had pushed it out of his mind. Palandine was a charming woman, even after receiving such troubling news about her daughter, and she put him at ease. Her easy laugh was infectious. By the end of the exam he had decided she was one of the most pleasant people he had met on Prime, besides Parmak of course.

It looked like he would only be admitting one new patient today, Julian was pleased to find as he reviewed the test results. But that relief was short-lived, because after he gave Palandine a clean bill of health, the time came to break the news to young Kel.

Informing a patient of a potentially terminal illness was never easy, even with the detached, professional shell he had constructed for these inevitable occasions, but it was especially difficult when that patient was a child. Ejat had been a real challenge at first, constantly asking why he couldn’t go out and play with his friends anymore.

He broke the news gently to the girl, her mother by her side, explaining his efforts to find a cure without making any promises. As much as he would have liked to promise she would be cured, to be certain in his own abilities, he couldn’t give her false hope. He had learned that lesson well.

But even without that promise, Kel accepted the diagnosis with a maturity beyond her years, as kind and polite as her mother. She didn’t even seem bothered that her doctor was a Human, as some of his older patients were – their discomfort was less overt now, but he could still sense it at times. This very morning Ejat had said his face looked like a hound’s snout, quite baffled by the stubble he could see through Julian’s visor. But Kel didn’t even seem to notice he wasn’t Cardassian.

By the time he had finished administering her first dose of cough suppressant and anti-inflammatory medication, Kel had already become fast friends with Ejat, who had poked his head around the curtain to meet his new neighbor. Her blue eyes seemed to sparkle as she shared in the boy’s laughter.

Palandine spent a few more hours with her daughter as Julian administered the afternoon doses of his other patients’ medicine. The work was slower without an extra set of hands, but he made do. Garak had been assigned as his afternoon nurse that day, but he had yet to return. Whatever was happening in Laboratory D must be very pressing indeed.

It was nearing the end of his shift when he bade farewell to Palandine, assuring her that she could see Kel whenever she liked within visiting hours, and giving her the transmission coordinates for the console his patients shared. The woman’s spirits seemed to droop as she said one last goodbye to her daughter, pressing her hand and promising to bring her something to read when she visited tomorrow. But she was determined to be strong for her daughter, that much was clear in her eyes.

Once Palandine was gone, Julian stepped out to have a brief look around the seventh floor. But Garak was nowhere to be found.

All right, now he was a little worried. But if Garak had suffered another claustrophobia attack, he probably would have heard about it. They worked so closely, after all, that someone would have thought to tell him. Still, it was best to check in and make sure he wasn’t unconscious in some empty exam room.

But before he could tap his wrist comm, the main doors slid open. He looked up hopefully – Garak was fine, he was returning to help him –to find the disappointing face of Nurse Rhan.

“Dr. El Fadil, Nurse Robinson asked me to cover for him here. He’ll be administering vaccines until the end of his shift.”

 

* * *

 

Julian didn’t see or hear from Garak again until the Cardassian strode into his office at the end of their shift, offering polite smiles and apologies. Yes, he was quite fine now, Garak insisted, but had felt just the least bit cramped in the isolation ward and decided it was best not to push himself. And why didn’t he just tell Julian that? Well, it wasn’t exactly a matter he enjoyed discussing in the company of others.

Julian wasn’t completely certain he believed him, watching the man closely as they packed up and headed out to the shuttle stop. But Garak really did seem back to his normal self – perhaps a little too polite for Julian’s taste, now that things had grown deeper, but they had to keep up appearances in public. When they were back home, now that would be a different story…

In an instant all the tension and anticipation and burning desire returned in torrents, and he couldn’t keep his eyes off of Garak, heart racing and face beaming, because oh god, it wouldn’t be long now.

Still, he’d show some restraint, yes, even when the end drew increasingly near. How would it look if he just flung himself at Garak the moment their apartment doors closed behind them, flushed and panting and grinding against him in need? As lovely as that sounded, Garak appreciated more subtlety than that, and the last thing he wanted to do was disappoint his new lover so early in the game.

Still, he couldn’t help but bump knees with Garak a little more than usual in the shuttle. But that was only to remind Garak of his calming presence, clearly; he wasn’t an aroused mess, his trousers just had an unfortunate way of bunching up. But right, Garak. It seemed he was still a little shaken from last night, no matter how hard he tried to hide it from his doctor’s eyes. The shuttle was teaming with the evening crowd, and Garak’s gaze only met his for a moment, his smile not reaching his eyes, before looking back out the window. All right, maybe contact wasn’t what the Cardassian needed at the moment.

His heartrate only quickened when they passed through their apartment doors, veins thrumming with _want want want,_ gaze falling instantly to the couch. But would Garak prefer the bed? Either was fine with Julian, really. The floor was also a suitable option. Or the table. Anywhere at all, as long as they got on with it soon.

Oh, but wait, there was something he needed to take care of before this could begin. He couldn’t quite keep the warmth from his face as he hurried to the bathroom, but Garak was kind enough not to pry. Good. This wasn’t exactly something he wanted to show off.

It had been a while since he had to clean himself so thoroughly, and it wasn’t the most pleasant to do with sanitary wipes, but he had to make sure he was presentable to Garak. It was a thoughtful thing to do for any lover, but it was practically imperative when your lover happened to be of a species that valued cleanliness.

He gently rubbed the wipe over his most private of areas, an area that hadn’t been touched by another in years (though more than a little explored by his own fingers), and oh, his opening gave a flutter. God, this was really going to happen now, but what was this sudden nervousness welling in his throat?

Swallowing, he brushed his pesky nerves aside and pulled his trousers back up before returning to the living room. But Garak wasn’t spread out on the couch with a beckoning hand, damn him. No, he was slumped in front of the console fully-clothed, face skewed in concentration. Could he possibly have forgotten after all his lovely promises? Or did he expect Julian to make the first move?

Well, if that was the case, Julian was more than happy to oblige. He was soon standing behind him, watching as Garak scrolled slowly through a portion of Dukat’s relay logs, paying him no mind. Going to play coy, was he? It was a good thing Julian lived for little challenges.

“Do you have to do that right now?” he asked, a whisper away from Garak’s ear.

Garak didn’t even flinch, eyes fixed on the console. “There’s a substantial amount of logs to sift through, Doctor, so the sooner we begin, the sooner we may find something useful.”

Julian wasn’t deterred that easily. “I know, I was just thinking we might…” He pressed a kiss, just a feather-light peck, below Garak’s ear, his voice falling to a murmur. “Have that conversation first.”

But Garak was suddenly out of reach, shoulders tensing as he scooted closer to the console. “Perhaps that’s a conversation best forgotten.”

All right, that was taking it a little too far. If he wanted Julian to take the initiative, then fine, maybe Garak was a more submissive lover than Julian had guessed, but how long was he going to delay this? Until he was old and gray and Julian was well into middle age? Enough was enough! What could possibly be the point of – _oh_. His fingers brushed the short hairs on his chin, smiling despite his irritation. It seemed he had been so focused on preparing other areas that he had completely overlooked his face.

“Well that’s a bit extreme a reaction to some stubble. But if you insist, I’ll go shave it now.” He turned to the bathroom to remedy the situation – really, what a persnickety Cardassian – but Garak’s words stopped him.

“This has nothing to do with your fur. I simply don’t believe it would be wise to pursue this any further.”

“What?” Julian turned back around. This didn’t sound like a game anymore, unless it was some elaborate Cardassian flirting technique. If so, it was having the opposite effect. “But this morning –”

Garak held up a hand to cut him off, swiveling his chair to meet Julian’s gaze. His lips were curled in the semblance of a smile, but his eyes were far more distant. “I am aware of what happened this morning, Doctor, but I have given the matter more consideration since then.” His veneer of composure was nearly perfect, just a hint of impatience slipping through. “And I’ve decided that we simply cannot afford to engage in such distractions right now.”

No, this wasn’t flirting. He was back to “Doctor” now, no longer “my dear.” Garak was serious about this.

Julian frowned, his arousal suddenly forgotten. “Well you could have consulted me before making that decision, because I _don’t_ see how it would distract from our assignment,” he returned, taking a seat on the arm of the couch.

Garak let out a scoff, derision hidden behind a customer service smile. “That hardly surprises me. You’ve never been one to look before you lunge, as your saying goes.”

“It’s ‘look before you leap,’” Julian corrected. If Garak was going to criticize him, the least he could do was get his idioms right. “And I _have_ given this thought, actually, quite a lot of thought, especially when you were carrying out your own plans behind my back. I’m not rushing into this blindly.”

“Really?” Garak arched an incredulous eyebrow, not at all convinced. “Then have you considered how dangerous it is for operatives to form attachments?”

Oh, was that the problem here? He should have known Garak’s excessive caution – paranoia – would raise an issue. “We would have to keep it secret, yes, but what’s one more secret?” He would have to keep his hands to himself in public, but he could probably manage that.

“The more secrets we have, the more likely it is that one will slip…Especially when one of us wears every thought and emotion on his face.”

Julian quickly relaxed the furrows on his face, forcing his expression into calm composure. He wouldn’t prove Garak right. “That’s hardly fairly. I’ve been consciously working on that.”

Garak’s smile was beginning to fade. Eyes that had once gleamed with warmth were now cold and distant. “You have improved in concealing some things, but not this. I knew by the end of our first week here that I had piqued your interest. And you’ve done little to hide it since.”

The words ran dry on Julian’s tongue. Shit. How could Garak have possibly known that when he himself hadn’t known? He had been in denial, yes, but he hadn’t entertained those thoughts until much later after the shower they had shared. He really had been obvious all along, hadn’t he?  

But it wasn’t as if Garak was perfect at disguising his own desires – there had been moments when Julian was nearly certain of Garak’s attraction. But bringing that up now would only strengthen Garak’s argument.

“Am I wrong?” A smug grin played at Garak’s lips.

Julian sighed, running a hand through his hair. “No, but I hadn’t even realized it yet. I was confused, I wasn’t very focused on what was on my face. But now things will be different, now I know I need to be careful.”

“You may try, but I’m afraid that still won’t mitigate the risk,” Garak insisted, shaking his head. “Sometimes you seem to act like you’re in a holosuite with the safeties engaged. And frankly, Doctor, I’m surprised that carelessness hasn’t cost us yet.”

Julian opened his mouth to respond, because he had been very careful, thank you, but Garak had already moved on to his next point.

“Such sentiment would only cloud our judgment and offer our enemies the perfect weakness to exploit. That is why the Obsidian Order required their operatives to be free from personal attachments. It simply isn’t safe to form such entanglements, and being involved with another agent is an even greater risk, especially when their loyalties don’t precisely align.”

Julian eyed him skeptically. He really wasn’t surprised by the rules, only that anyone had ever managed to keep them. “You’re not telling me you always followed these rules, that there was never someone – “

“These rules were established for a reason, Doctor,” Garak cut in, patience all but gone. “And disregarding them will only lead to compromise. Operatives must be willing to make the sacrifices that are required of them, to put their duties above their personal desires. I realize that your novels and holoprograms show an entirely different lifestyle, one where such attachments are as common as they are fleeting, but the life of a _real_ intelligence agent is one of solitude and rigid dedication.”

“Well that sounds like a dreary life. It’s a good thing neither of us are in the Obsidian Order.” He was 94.5 percent certain of that, unless Garak was concealing something much deeper. “The Order is gone. I’m with Starfleet, and you’re…well, a contractor of sorts.”

Garak raised both eyebrows, but didn’t protest the description.

“And Starfleet Intelligence doesn’t have any rules against relationships, or Telma would have mentioned something,” Julian added. She certainly seemed to think they were already romantically involved.

“Perhaps they do not,” Garak allowed. “But tell me, Doctor, how would you respond if Starfleet decided they no longer had use for me?”

Julian only needed a moment to consider his response. It was quite simple, really, nothing they couldn’t handle. “I’d explain to them what an asset you have been to this assignment,” he replied. “But if they still insist on sending you back…Well, I would have to comply, but I’d find a way to send you the information you need to help your people. And we’d still see each other back on DS9 once this is over.”

“ _If_ they send me back. I may know too much about their little operation here.”

Julian held his gaze firmly. “They wouldn’t kill you, Garak. Starfleet doesn’t operate that way.”

Garak let out a scoff. “I’ll take your word for it,” he said with the mockery of a smile. “But that doesn’t change the fact that if you were forced to choose between acting in the best interest of this assignment, or me, an attachment would make that choice difficult.”

Julian blinked, still more confused than anything, because what had caused this dramatic about face? But no, as frustrating as Garak’s worries were right now, they did bring up an interesting point, something he hadn’t really considered before. An attachment might be dangerous, he could grant Garak that, but what was he hoping would come of this exactly? What sort of relationship did he want with this paranoid, obstinate, but still so charming and intelligent Cardassian?

That hardly mattered at the moment, though. He couldn’t exactly be particular now, not when it wasn’t clear if _anything_ would come of this.

“All right, then, if you’re so afraid of forming an attachment, we can keep it casual,” he decided. “No commitment, no sentiment. No strings attached. I won’t expect anything more than you’re willing to give.”

“What a very Federation concept.”

Not _just_ a Federation concept. There were many species outside the Federation that were accepting of free love, and besides, it didn’t cause nearly as many problems as Cardassia’s repressive view of relationships – but he held his tongue. At least it wasn’t an outright no.

Julian leaned forward and took Garak’s hand, holding his eyes with an intensity that dared him to look away. “We can still make this work, Garak.”

Garak’s gaze flitted to their enjoined hands, but he didn’t pull away. “Forgive me if I’m a bit skeptical based on your previous record.”

Julian frowned. It was true none of his relationships had lasted very long, except Palis, but why did that matter? The past did not necessarily determine the future.

“Well if you’re always so focused on how things will end, you might never start anything worth pursuing,” Julian insisted. But how effective was that argument against a man who always erred on the side of caution, his own pleasure be damned?

“Which explains your record.”

Julian sighed, a sharp ache forming between his eyebrows. “All right, I can’t guarantee it will work out,” he admitted. “But even if it doesn’t, you don’t have to worry about things being awkward. I’m fine with remaining friends afterward. I’m still friends with Leeta after we dated that short time, and Jadzia, even though she has rejected my interest for years, she’s one of my closest friends.”

He had given it his best smile, his most optimistic tone, but Garak’s frown remained solid as stone. “That may be, but it is still an unnecessary risk, one that’s simply not worth a few fleeting moments of pleasure.” He pulled his hand out of Julian’s grasp.

God, of all the obstinate, enraging Cardassians, he had to fall for this one! It was just his luck, really.

“Garak –”

“If you so badly need release, Doctor, might I suggest Kurat Tavern?”

Furrows played upon Julian’s forehead, his left eye twitching. It was as if Garak was trying to escalate this into another heated shouting match. He pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose, trying to conserve his patience. “This isn’t just about sex, Garak.”

“Oh, so you admit you want something more than ‘casual?’”

“Well, perhaps I do. Look, I care about you, all right?”

It slipped out from some corner of his mind, a corner he hadn’t spent much time exploring, but goddamnit it was true, wasn’t it? He did care deeply for Garak now, for probably much longer than he had realized. He wanted a deeper relationship, not just one where they spent nights together in frenzied passion, but where they spent mornings lying lazy and happy in each other’s arms, debating the literary merits of _Cyrano De Bergerac,_ or the latest Federation trade agreement, or saying nothing at all.

Hearing that confession out loud, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it, if only because he had finally coaxed something genuine out of Garak, a flash of surprise in those gleaming blue eyes. But it was gone in a second, vanishing behind layers of defense and deception.

A little warmth spread across Julian’s cheeks, but he refused to break Garak’s gaze. “But if you’re not comfortable with something more serious, I can be satisfied with a casual relationship.” Really, that wasn’t too much to ask, not after Garak had made his own desires clear. “Isn’t that what _you’ve_ wanted? Hell, you were the one who first propositioned _me_ – the very first time we met! Whatever happened to that?”

There was tension in Garak’s jaw now, his features hardened. “Our circumstances were different then. I was merely looking for a distraction from my miserable existence, and you seemed like the easiest and most appealing option at the time.”

“And now?”

Silence fell thick between them as Garak seemed to consider the question, his face revealing little.

“Now you’re not thinking clearly.” Garak broke their gaze and rose abruptly, pressing a finger to his temple. “Now that we’ve settled that, I think I’ll have some tea.” He headed for the replicator like it was an escape pod.

Sighing, Julian stood up and followed him. Perhaps he should have stopped pushing and just accepted the possibility of something in the future, after this mission was over…but damnit, his patience had run dry and he just couldn’t rest his hopes on something that might never come.

So he pushed on.

“No, nothing is settled, Garak. I don’t understand why you’re trying to push me away. Is it really so hard to believe someone would care for you?”

“Someone? I suppose not,” Garak’s voice came over the beep of the replicator. “But a Starfleet officer with such a narrow and rigid view of morality? Perhaps you can see my reason for skepticism.”

Julian lingered a few feet behind Garak, staring at his back. This wasn’t the first time he had considered this question. “I’ll admit we have our differences, but that hardly bothers me anymore. Besides, our conversations wouldn’t be nearly as interesting if we agreed on everything.”

And really, perhaps they weren’t as different as Garak would like him to believe. Oh, yes, he talked a good game, all dark and devious, but when it came down to it…well, Julian hadn’t seen any actions to support Garak’s claims. There were times when Garak’s defenses seemed to lower _just_ enough for a glimpse of something deeper to peak through, just a touch out of view.

Garak’s tea had materialized, steaming and fragrant, but he made no move to pick it up. He continued to stare silently at the replicator, his back towards Julian. There was something a little melancholy about that view.

Julian took a few steps forward, placing a hand on Garak’s shoulder. “Look, if you’re afraid of vulnerability, I can understand that. It must be difficult when suspicion has been drilled into you your entire life.”

The shoulder under Julian’s hand tensed suddenly, and in a flash he was met by blazing dark eyes.

 “Don’t presume to know me, Doctor,” Garak hissed, low and volatile. It was as if the dim orange light had sensed his mood shift, casting the harshest shadows it could muster upon his face. Julian’s hand fell away.

“You don’t know me, no, not after the implant, not even after the time we’ve spent here. Or have you forgotten the ridges that lie behind this mask?” – a sharp gesture to his face – “It’s amusing, really, how appalled you were by Pa’Dar’s assassination, that Dukat had escaped justice. Well believe me, Doctor, I’ve committed such acts. Yes, and far worse. If you knew half of the things I’ve done, you wouldn’t even be able to look at me, let alone desire anything _intimate_.”

Thoughts came pouring through his mind, all speaking at once and insisting to be heard, and for once it threatened to overwhelm him. Yes, yes, he already knew that. Garak’s past was filled with undefined horrors, veiled in lies and half-truths and riddles, so it was very likely he had committed such acts – maybe they were the reason for his exile. But that wasn’t the Garak Julian knew now. He held up civility like a shield, but even behind that, whatever he was protecting wasn’t black and rotten. They had spent nearly every hour together for over a month now – if Garak was really the man he claimed to be, some of that would have slipped out by now. His methods may not have been the most morally sound to Federation standards, but his underlying intension – to save his people – was still admirable.

But that didn’t erase Garak’s past, no, there were still crimes that needed to be atoned for, that perhaps could never be atoned for. Any good Starfleet officer should be disturbed by that, should wholeheartedly condemn it, should not be enticed by his mystery, his charm, but oh, Julian had fallen too hard, it was all so irrational, this cognitive dissonance, but even that couldn’t sever this _attachment_.

After all, he had already forgiven Garak.

He held his chin up high as he lessened the distance between them, gazing fiercely at his friend. “I don’t need to know your past to see that there’s goodness in you now.”

A beat, then the silence was consumed by a dark, humorless laugh.

“My dear, naïve Doctor, even _you_ cannot be that willfully ignorant,” Garak said, teeth flashing in the shadows. “But you see only what you want to see. No matter how many times I repeat my warning, you still seem to trust me! If you think I will change, that some of your Federation virtue will rub off on me, then I’m afraid you’ve deluded yourself.”

Julian’s frown deepened, but no, he would not be deterred by Garak’s censure. Their faces were close now, nearly as close as they had been that morning, but there was no warmth in this proximity. It was stubbornness, intimidation, a challenge to see who would back down first.

Garak stood tall and resolute, shoulders pulled back and eyes glinting like stone, and suddenly Julian could see an Order agent standing before him. A Cardassian through-and-through, even without ridges and scales.

“But you can’t accept that, can you?” Garak continued. Somehow, despite being five centimeters shorter, he managed to look down on Julian. “No, things always have to turn out _just_ right for Dr. Julian Bashir. And when they don’t, you just push harder, ignoring all sense and reason, because State forbid you ever _fail_ at anything. You’re so accustomed to being the brilliant young doctor, after all –  the star pupil, learning everything so quickly – that you can’t stand it when things don’t follow your designs, when there’s something you just can’t master. When you fail time and time again. It terrifies you, because it shows that you’re little more than an imposter.” His voice fell to nearly a whisper, glazed with ice. “You’re not an intelligence agent. What Starfleet is using you for, I certainly couldn’t say, but it’s not what they claim. That much is clear. Even _Starfleet_ can’t be that incompetent.”

It cut like knives, every word sharper than the last, because damnit he was right, he had seen it all, it was impossible to hide from those watchful blue eyes. Garak had pierced his skin and exposed his entrails, his secrets and insecurities, his flaws and failures.

But how deep had that probe explored? Surely if Garak had guessed the truth, he would be hearing about it right now, about how hypocritical, how _unnatural_ Julian was. A revelation like that wasn’t something you could brush past silently, not even Garak.

Klaxons were blaring in Julian’s mind – he was far too exposed, Garak had dug too deep – and the urge to escape tugged at his limbs. He couldn’t hold that gaze anymore, not when it deconstructed his barriers and unraveled his façade. His eyes shifted away, falling to the wall, the floor, anywhere but that man. But his body remained in place.

Drawing a breath, he forced his gaze to meet Garak’s once more.

“Is that how you really feel?”

“Yes.”

Julian withdrew a few paces. His passion had drained away, leaving him cold and resigned. “Well I’m sorry I don’t meet your high standards for a companion, that I’m not good enough to earn your oh so guarded trust. I just thought – well, that hardly matters now, does it? You’ve made yourself perfectly clear, Garak…” Another few steps back, then he turned away. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some research to catch up on.”

Looking around hastily, Julian grabbed the first stack of padds he could find and retreated to the bedroom. But the padds lay beside him unread as he contemplated the ceiling for the rest of the night.

 

* * *

 

Julian set down his empty mug and looked up from his medical journal, glancing at the chronometer on the wall. Well, he couldn’t really stay here all night, there was really no point. It wasn’t as if he had absorbed any of the last hundred pages he had read. No, he needed to be at the apartment sifting through those relay logs. The Changeling’s identity might be hidden within that collection of data, and if Starfleet Command still needed more evidence after the recording Telma sent them, this was the perfect opportunity to gather some.

And if Garak was still up, so what? It wasn’t as if he could go on avoiding him for much longer – he was his damned roommate.

He hadn’t seen Garak since yesterday evening. Dinner hadn’t seemed very appetizing that night, so he had stayed in his bedroom until morning, finally dragging himself out of bed in the worst sort of moods. But Garak hadn’t been there to receive his sorrowful glances or angry glares (he wasn’t sure which he would give), and had probably taken an early shuttle to work. That was good, really.

Their eyes had met briefly in the hall, but no words had passed between them. That was the last Julian had seem of him today, but he figured Garak had gone home as usual after his shift.

He could have lied to himself, citing the urgent need for the work he was doing now at 1000 hours, but it wouldn’t be very convincing. The thought of being in that apartment with Garak, well…it wasn’t the most appealing at the moment.

It really shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. Hell, after how many times Jadzia had rejected him, he should have developed skin as thick as…well, a Cardassian, for one. But none of Jadzia’s rejections had come with a startlingly accurate list of his flaws, every blow carefully crafted to sting. And honestly, he didn’t know where to go from here.

As much as he would rather avoid Garak now, it wasn’t as if he could just ask him to leave. They still had a job to do, and unlike their last dispute, this argument was personal in nature. It didn’t warrant such a response. If anything, this should prove that Julian wasn’t as irrational about relationships as Garak had accused.

Yes, no matter what would become of their friendship, he still needed Garak’s help – especially if Dukat’s relay logs didn’t prove as helpful as he hoped.

In time he would be able to work with him again, to be his friend, even. The sting would fade. But right now he just needed a little time away from that Cardassian, a little distance to bury these regrets.

Sighing, Julian looked back at his padd and shut off the screen. If he wanted to spend the night in his own bed, he had better get a move on before Torr became barred to entrance.

The ride home was silent and uneventful, giving him plenty of time to gather his wits. Still, he paused outside their apartment door and removed his dust mask, taking a few moments to harden his features, neutral and impervious. Garak didn’t have to know exactly how much his words had affected him.

He stepped through the door to find an empty apartment.

A quick check of the rooms and the balcony and the empty hook by the door confirmed it. Garak wasn’t home.

Well, why was Julian so concerned, anyway? Garak was his own agent, loyal to no one but himself. It didn’t matter that they were partners. He could do as he pleased, so long as it didn’t jeopardize the mission…but Julian couldn’t be sure of that anymore, could he?

But there was really no point worrying over Garak. Worrying would just lead to excessive attachment, anyway, and he had to break this somehow. The console, on the other hand, was a perfectly reasonable use of his time, something productive to fill the night. It was probably best Garak wasn’t here anyway. That way he could delay the awkwardness a bit longer.

It was strange, then, that the console screen refused to stay on the relay logs, instead flicking about through recent records, searching for any clues to where Garak might have gone. Yes, very strange. It was as if no matter how upset the console was with Garak, there was some stubborn part still worried about that bloody Cardassian.

But no, there was nothing, no transmission records, no recordings, no maps. Nothing.

Groaning in frustration, Julian pushed back from the console and rose to his feet. He couldn’t just guess blindly; Garak could be anywhere, and he knew the city far better than Julian. Ah, but what was that? He drew closer to inspect the padd on the kitchen table, not certain he had seen it there that morning.

The little screen flickered on to reveal a map of Cardassia City, quite detailed with all the sectors and their subsections neatly labeled. A red dot stood out against the dark hues, positioned in the eastern part of the Munda’ar Sector.

God, could he really be so lucky? He had been searching for little scraps of clues, but here was a padd with a literal map. Could that really be where Garak had gone? But he would hardly be so careless as to leave it lying around, surely he knew Julian would find it…unless that had been his intention.

Julian dropped the padd. Whatever Garak was involved with, he might need backup.

But he couldn’t rush after him blindly, that would be foolish and careless and prove Garak’s criticism right. So he took the time to grab his phaser and medkit – just in case – before slipping on his mask and cloak and heading out the door.

Curfew had just begun, streetlamps and viewscreens flickering off, bathing the district in darkness. It was a little disconcerting at first, blind and alone in an alien city, but he had been this way before with Garak. All he had to do was remember the route they had taken out of Torr, avoiding any unfortunate dead ends.

It was early enough that the constables hadn’t started their patrols yet, giving Julian the precious minutes he needed to leave the sector. But though he moved quickly, he didn’t sacrifice stealth in the process, using carefully controlled movements as he passed through the shadows, avoiding the surveillance devices he could spot or remember.

Once he entered the Munda’ar Sector, he kept the map fresh in his mind. This area was a little less familiar, but as he continued to approach his destination, he realized it wasn’t far off from where Garak had trained him with the _regnar_.

He was nearly at the red dot now, he realized as he compared the surroundings to his mental map, but where was – ah, there, a figure in the stairwell of that warehouse, just barely perceptible in the moons’ dim glow. But wait. There was a second figure standing beside the first, a little shorter and not as broad.

Julian faltered and clung to the wall beside him.

Yes, the one closest to the stairwell was Garak, the moonlight falling across his bare face, his dust mask nowhere to be seen. But who was the person beside him? Not anyone Julian recognized from what he could see, but that figure was still obscured in shadows. He couldn’t even be certain it was a Cardassian.

He peered a little closer, sidling along the wall as his vision gradually adjusted to the level of light. Garak’s mouth seemed to be moving but Julian couldn’t quite make out the words from this distance. Perhaps if he crept just a bit closer…

Something cold pressed between his shoulder blades as a high-pitched hum reached his ears, a sound he recognized instantly – a disruptor set to kill.

The disruptor pushed him a few steps forward, stumbling, but a hand gripped his shoulder to keep him upright. His arms fell limp to his sides, fingers twisting, yearning to grasp the phaser under his cloak, but he didn’t dare move. He could barely breathe.

His tongue felt numb and heavy in his mouth, but he had to speak, he had to know the identity of his captor. But no, he couldn’t quite get the words out as he was pushed forward out of his cover, out into the moonlight.

Then his dust mask was lifted, a blast of warm air hitting his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"If I told you what I was,_  
>  _Would you turn your back on me?_  
>  _And if I seem dangerous,_  
>  _Would you be scared?"_  
>  \- "Monster," Imagine Dragons
> 
> Tune in next week for a betrayal.


	25. Betray

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garak is faced with a choice between two forms of betrayal.

When their eyes met, shock flitted openly across Garak’s face.

Oh, he tried to subdue it, closing his mouth and forcing a blink, but it lingered in the creases on his forehead, the gleam in his eyes. He really seemed to be losing his edge lately, as strange as that was. But Julian had more pressing concerns at the moment, the disruptor digging deeper into his back as another stranger stood in front of him.

At least he was now at a distance where he could distinguish features of the figure beside Garak – a male Cardassian, younger than Garak, and completely unfamiliar. A little nervous too, by the way his gaze kept flicking from Garak to Julian to whoever was holding the disruptor to the shadowed area beyond. That wasn’t a very attractive quality in a man with a disruptor on his hip.

The stranger didn’t seem to like the confused silence, promptly breaking it. “What is this, Human?” he hissed, glaring at Garak. “You said you came alone.”

Garak’s eyes lingered on Julian for a moment more, a silent admonition. “I did,” he answered quickly, turning to the man. When he cleared his throat, his voice had fallen an octave, strange and rough and not at all Garak. “Forgive me, I wasn’t expecting this rude interruption. Now I believe you were saying something about the drop point…”

That hardly placated the man, his gaze continuing to dart around suspiciously. His hand was lingering dangerously close to his disruptor, but it wasn’t clear if Garak was doing the same. His face had returned to near perfect composure, and his right side, where his phaser was usually worn, was hidden from Julian’s view.

“No, we’re not discussing this any further until…” The stranger’s gaze halted on Julian and his eyes grew wide. “Wait…Bring him closer, Ekirat.”

A rough shove from the disruptor pushed Julian forward, closer to the Cardassian. No, even at this distance he didn’t recognize anything about the man’s face. He would have remembered that scar above his left eye ridge.

The man squinted at Julian, studying him closely. Surprise suddenly flickered in his eyes. “You’re the Starfleet doctor on Terok Nor…Dr. Bashir.”

Julian blinked. No, he must have heard wrong, this complete stranger of a Cardassian couldn’t possibly have blown his cover. He had never seen this man before in his life. There had to be an explanation for this, perhaps it was a mistake. But Garak stood completely composed, not a hint of shock betrayed by his eyes.

All right, he needed to keep a level head, not let a hint of confusion escape from his eyes. Drawing a soft breath, he hardened his face and met the stranger’s gaze. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, sir. My name is Dr. Siddig El Fadil and I mean you no harm.” When he held up his hands to demonstrate that sentiment, the disruptor stabbed him deeper.

“Don’t move,” commanded a voice behind him.

The man was now drawing uncomfortably near to Julian’s face, lifting his chin with a scaled finger. “No, I’m quite certain…But what are you doing on Cardassia?” His hand slipped away and fell back to his hip, hovering near his disruptor as he turned back to Garak. “And you…” He began to circle Garak, examining him just as closely. “I knew there was something that felt familiar about you, Garak. Your eyes, your smile, that slip of the voice. You nearly had me fooled.”

Julian’s eyes darted back to Garak, because damnit this man knew far too much, posed a greater threat than he had realized, even with that disruptor pushing into his spine. What had Garak gotten himself involved in here?

But there was still no surprise on Garak’s face, only a wry smile, his eyes unreadable in the shadows. “You’re more observant than I remember, Morek.” He had slipped back into his normal voice.

A wash of shock surged through Julian, but he didn’t dare move, the heavy breaths behind him a constant reminder of his peril. He struggled to swallow his confusion, the burning question of _why the hell would Garak just submit like that – and so out in the open –_ because he needed to remain calm, consider the situation rationally. He could only hope all the nearby surveillance had been deactivated.

Morek’s lips curled to match Garak’s smile, but his eyes were just as opaque. “Oh, so you do remember me?”

“Of course,” Garak answered flatly. “You were one of the worst probes I had the pleasure of training.” It was his turn to size up his opponent, quickly deciding that he wasn’t impressed. “But it seems Tain did find some use for you after all.”

“Believe me, it was no trivial task. He was very interested in keeping tabs on all his enemies…even you.”

A surviving Order member? One who had worked directly under Tain no less, who was probably the reason Tain had known so much about Julian. This wasn’t good, they needed to find a way out fast if this mission had any chance of continuing. If Julian just considered it long enough, observed long enough, took stock of his surroundings, he could devise an escape plan. The man behind him perhaps, if he could only subdue him…But no, he was standing too far back, Julian’s elbow wouldn’t reach. Well he could still try to salvage this, even without Garak’s help.

“I’m sorry, I really don’t know what’s going on here,” he said, filling his voice with confusion. It wasn’t difficult. “I just came to Cardassia to practice medicine as part of the –”

Garak held up a hand abruptly, cutting him off. “There’s no use denying it anymore, Doctor.”

 _What?_ He slipped Garak a subtle, questioning gaze, searching for any reassurance in those eyes, any _trust me, Doctor, I know a way out of this._ But he received nothing in return.

With his plan completely shot, he had no choice but abandon it. He met Morek’s gaze steadily, wiping all emotions from his face. “All right, I am Dr. Bashir,” he admitted. “But I only adopted a false identity so I could be allowed on Cardassia to work on a cure for your plague. Starfleet officers aren’t permitted to volunteer for the Federation’s relief efforts, so I had no choice but to pose as a civilian.”

But Morek’s grin only widened, looking at Garak as if Julian was hardly there. “Who taught him to lie, Garak? Not you, I hope. I often heard Tain speak highly of your abilities in that area.”

“I’m flattered he spared me a thought now and then,” Garak scoffed. He finally spared Julian another glance before turning back to Morek, smiling disarmingly. “But really, while there’s nothing I would enjoy more than to reminisce with an old friend, I think we would all be more comfortable if you’d kindly remove that disruptor from the doctor’s back.”

“I would be happy to, Garak, but not until I’m certain he doesn’t pose a threat to me. I’ve worked hard to get where I am, and I won’t see my business compromised.” Morek’s gaze shifted to the man behind Julian – Ekirat – and nodded. The disruptor stayed put.

He wouldn’t have such luck, but he was grateful for the attempt. Perhaps Garak did have control over this situation. Forcing his shoulders to relax, he continued to observe the two reunited colleagues.

“Ah, so you really are a black marketeer,” Garak observed, intrigued. “Did Alon Ghemor not have use for a petty gossip gatherer?”

Really, Garak’s mocking was hardly what they needed right now. But no, he never could resist that urge, even when he was at a disadvantage. Or perhaps he had already analyzed his opponent, and was devising a strategy, yes. Julian would have to trust that was the case.

Morek’s smile fell a little flat. “Some of us didn’t have the luxury of being in exile when Ghemor started his little crusade against the old blood. But I’ve managed.”

“So glad to hear it.”

The Cardassian continued on as if Garak hadn’t spoken. “Which makes me curious why an exiled man would return to his place of exile…” He began pacing leisurely, walking a slow circle around Garak. But at least he seemed more relaxed now, his hand no longer creeping close to his disruptor. “You certainly could have picked a better time. Tain is gone, Pythas Lok is gone. The Order is dead, Alon Ghemor has seen to that. People like us aren’t welcome here anymore. But you knew that…” He stopped directly in front of Garak, peering intently into his face. “And you went through quite a bit of trouble to come back home, I see. So what’s your plan?”

 Garak smiled that oh-so-innocent smile, an expression Julian knew and loved and despised so well. “Plan? Why must I be planning anything? Perhaps I’m here on vacation.”

Morek snorted, taking a step back. “That’s one expensive vacation. And I suppose you needed to obtain a holoprojector for some augmented leisure with your Federation bedwarmer?” He cast a scathing glance at Julian. “Then Tain must have greatly exaggerated your abilities, and he was never one to hand out praise…No, I think there’s something deeper going on here.”

But Garak only smiled, revealing none of his hand. “It’s amusing how you believe you know Tain after serving as one of his many underlings for only four years. And that you would presume to know me based on his word alone.”

“And the word of Pythas Lok, whom I’ve heard was once a close friends of yours,” Morek retorted with a peculiar smirk. “He was just as interested in my work as Tain. And let’s not forget all I’ve gleaned from watching you on that station. Your habits, your schemes…the company you keep.” His gaze flitted back to Julian for a moment before returning to Garak, his smile fading. “So I ask again…why are you on Cardassia?”

Garak’s smile remained pleasant in the face of his colleague’s impatience. “Morek, I must say I’m disappointed. You claim to know me so well, yet you need me to spell out my motives? It’s this lack of ambition and creativity that has always kept you from advancing.”

That seemed to strike a nerve. Morek appeared far less calm now, frontal vein protruding from his ridged forehead, as he took a moment to reply.  “And you still think your games are so clever, hm?” he returned, pressing closer. “Well I’ve already figured this one out.”

“Have you now?” Garak stood his ground, eyeing him blandly.

“Yes,” Morek answered, the word a smug hiss in Garak’s face. “You might be a traitor, Garak, but I’m having some difficulty believing you’d be in bed with the Federation. You’re not the Human’s ally, are you? Oh, you probably have him thinking you are, but you have other plans for him.” Morek’s eyes remained fixed on Garak, assessing, as if watching for any sign of confirmation.

Garak tilted his head. “Do I?” he asked, that reptilian smirk coming out to play. “What an interesting theory.”

Morek wouldn’t be distracted from his purpose. “A Federation spy would be worth something to Meya Rejal, I imagine. Infiltrating a rival intelligence agency, exposing a foreign plot on Cardassian soil, revealing the Federation for the enemy they really are…It might even be worth an executive pardon.”

“So it might…”

Julian’s gaze flickered back to Garak. It was probably just part of the ruse, but Garak did seem to be giving the notion some thought. Morek might not be wrong. Julian hardly knew Rejal well enough to predict the outcome of such a gambit, but as often as Garak said she was no friend to him, well, that could change. A plot like that held promise for someone desperately seeking reconciliation with his government. How had this never crossed Julian’s mind before?

Ah, but Garak could just be buying time. Morek did seem a little distracted now, gaze trained on Garak, trying so hard to read those enigmatic eyes, that this just might be the perfect opportunity.

Julian’s hand began slowly inching toward his hip where his phaser was concealed behind his cloak. It was lucky he hadn’t been searched for weapons; that blunder might have just saved them. Almost there, now to just slip his hand inside the cloak, but oh, that rustle of cloth –

His body was seized, an arm wrapping roughly around him as the disruptor pressed into his throat.

“Don’t move, Human!” came the voice behind him, not far from his ear. His harsh whisper seemed to echo in the deserted lot. “Enough of this, Morek! I don’t care how much you hope to profit off this sale, it isn’t worth the risk! Remember what happened to the last dealer who tried selling to him.”

Garak observed Julian’s latest predicament with nothing more than curiosity, his smile never faltering. “An unfortunate fellow, but I swear I had nothing to do with that.”

Morek’s hand was back near his disruptor, hovering anxiously. “Perhaps not, but I can’t afford to be careless anymore,” he said, scanning the area for any signs of danger. The night was quiet and still outside their moonlit little circle. “Ekirat is right – the time for games is up. Let’s talk business. Now I could agree not expose your little plot here, but I believe there’s something more I could offer.”

“And what might that be?” Garak held the man’s gaze steadily.

“A direct line to Rejal. I still have some contacts in this new Order, you see. But _you_ , well I suspect all your friends went down with Tain, or you would hardly be going through this business with a holoprojector. But I would expect to be compensated for my generosity.” He turned a thoughtful eye on Julian. “The presence of this spy on Cardassia is enough to ruin Ghemor’s career, leaving Rejal with the task of appointing a new head of the Cardassian Intelligence Bureau. Make sure she chooses me and we’ll call it even.”

Garak let out a snort. “Ah, well forgive me for misjudging your ambition.”

“My patience is running low, Garak. I suggest you not test it further with idle comments.”

“Oh, well in that case,” Garak drawled, a calm pillar beside Morek’s skittishness. “I accept your terms. It will be a pleasure doing business with you.” He held out an arm to seal the deal.

Morek’s body visibly relaxed, smiling as he grasped Garak’s forearm. “Good. You made a wise choice, I have much I can offer you.” Drawing his arm back, he turned to Julian, eyeing him, appraising him. “Now that I have an interest in protecting my investments, perhaps we should move him somewhere more secure for the time being.”

Garak’s gaze passed over Julian contemplatively, everywhere but his eyes. “I quite agree, but we might want to take care of this first…” His hand fell to his side, disappearing from view. “He does have a tendency to run his mouth.”

Garak lifted his phaser and pointed it at Julian.

It was a slap in the face, a punch in the gut. _Oh._ This wasn’t part of the ruse anymore, was it? Maybe _this_ was the ruse, this mission, this bond, everything leading to this moment.

Garak was really going to do this. There it was, the determination in his eyes, the steadiness of his hand. He was going to betray him, after all they had shared – lunches and debates, excitement and adventure, affection and _almost there_ – for a chance to be welcomed home.

He had been a fool, a damned fool, for trusting this spy, for welcoming this infiltration, for _falling in love._ Garak had pushed him away like a final warning, but no, he had followed him anyway. Had he just stepped into the trap, or had he always been ensnared?

Julian met Garak’s eyes steadily. All right, if this was how it would end, he needed to know one thing.

“Is this what you really want, Garak?”

But Garak’s smile didn’t falter, tutting as he shook his head. “I’m sorry, my dear, but I did warn you.”

Julian lifted his chin, eyes darting to the phaser before settling back on Garak’s half-shadowed face. All right. If Garak was going to shoot him, he would not flinch or cower. He would hold Garak’s gaze until the last moment he saw him, give him something to remember him by. A look to haunt him for the rest of his life.

The phaser fired. A pungent stench filled the air, burnt hair and flesh. The pain would follow soon enough, if the black didn’t claim him first. Julian gritted his teeth to welcome it.

The disruptor fell from his throat and Ekirat collapsed to the ground, shot in the head.

But he couldn’t stare and blink and try to process what had just happened, there wasn’t time, because Morek was drawing his disruptor now, eyes trained on Garak, so his hand found the phaser under his cloak, drawing and pointing and firing.

Morek hit the ground and the night fell still.

They were frozen, staring wordlessly at each other, the only two left standing as the world pulsed around them. Their gaze broke to scan the shadows around them, listening intently for any sign that the phaser fire had been heard, but Julian could hardly hear anything over the blood rushing in his ears.

His hands were trembling as he lowered his phaser and slipped it back into its holster, and then it all started pushing through the numbness – shock, relief, exhaustion, even a bit of glee – but he couldn’t allow it to overtake him, not now. His eyes flickered back to Garak, his legs still unresponsive, and his lips parted, but what could he say? There would be time for that later. He needed to focus.

His legs found their stride and he was soon by Morek’s body, kneeling beside the unconscious Cardassian. The beam had struck his chest, not far from his clavicular ridge, leaving only a minor burn. He shouldered off his medkit and pulled out a tricorder, assessing the damage.

Garak’s body loomed over him, blocking out the moonlight. “Is he alive?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’m afraid we have no choice.”

Julian glanced up to find Garak’s phaser trained on Morek. He quickly rose to his feet. “No,” he decided, eyeing Garak sternly. “Enough life has been lost tonight.” Ekirat’s body lay dead a few meters away, his face black and charred.

Sighing, Garak lowered his weapon. “Well what do you propose we do?” he asked, barely above a whisper. “He knows both our identities, and I highly doubt he’ll just sit on that information – what is that?”

Julian had knelt back down and drawn a hypo from his medkit, holding it up to examine the vial. It seemed he hadn’t been wrong to add this to his supply. “An amnesic,” he answered. “This dose will erase his memories from the last twenty-six hours.”

“What a clever drug,” came Garak’s observation from behind him, lacking the usual energy. A beat, then he continued. “But that still won’t erase the transmission logs on Morek’s computer.”

“No, but you’ll take care of that.”

“And the risk that he might happen upon you and recognize you?”

Julian paused, hypo hovering near Morek’s carotid artery. “One I’m not willing to kill over.”

Garak fell silent for a moment, his shadow swaying over the body, before he decided. “Very well. Proceed.”

The hypo hissed with a release of air, injecting its drug into the Cardassian’s bloodstream.

They exchanged nothing more than nods as they finished their task, moving as quickly and carefully as they could manage. The blast of Garak’s phaser seemed to echo through the streets as he vaporized Ekirat’s body, but it had to be done. They couldn’t just leave the body to be found.

As for Morek, Julian administered a mild sedative and two cc’s of triptacederine before they carefully lifted him, moving him to the shadowed side of the warehouse. He would be a little sore and very confused when he woke up, but all evidence of this night would be erased.

Once they had located their dust masks, they started home in silence.

Home…when had he started calling it that?

 

* * *

 

As fascinating as this report on industrial microbiology was, Julian’s eyes couldn’t stay focused on the padd, glancing up at the silent Cardassian that sat at the console, a dark silhouette against the screen’s dim glow. The room’s orange sconces were hardly enough to light the room after sunset.

Garak had been at that for a while now. Perhaps he was having some difficulty accessing Morek’s computer – it was hard to tell from where Julian was sitting. But no, as curious as he was, he had decided to give Garak some space. He had seemed visibly agitated since the walk back, and really, Julian had a lot on his mind as well.

So he remained on the couch with his padd, losing the battle with his concentration.

At length Garak pushed his chair back from the console, and immediately Julian’s eyes were on him.

“It’s done,” he said simply. “He’ll find no trace of tonight.”

“Good,” Julian replied, eyeing him carefully. There was a little more light on him now, emphasizing the deep lines on his face.

Rising abruptly, Garak crossed the room to the balcony door and began drawing the curtains. But he stopped before the curtains touched, leaving enough of a gap to gaze out into the night. The air hung heavy between them.

Well, it was about time one of them broke the silence. This needed to be discussed, if only because Julian hardly knew what had happened, only what he had pieced together from Garak’s conversation with Morek. He had been hoping to get some explanation from Garak, and honestly, he was growing a little impatient, his flurry of thoughts refusing to keep silent.

But just as he opened his mouth, Garak spoke.

“I suppose you’d like to know what happened back there.” He stood with his back toward Julian, shoulders tense and a little bit hunched, illuminated by a sliver of moonlight peaking in through the curtains.

It was strange how different Garak sounded now, not even trying to disguise the exhaustion in his voice. Julian rose and walked around the couch, stopping a few steps behind him. It was best not to crowd him right now. “Well, I was prepared to demand an explanation, yes.”

“There’s no need to demand, Doctor,” Garak replied, turning around to meet Julian’s eyes. “It seems I’ve grown too tired for these games.”

Julian blinked. Yes, something was definitely off– it wasn’t like Garak to give answers without making him work for them. His eyes, as shadowed as they were, seemed just as tired as his voice.

 “All right,” Julian said, holding his gaze. “Then what exactly was your plan back there? Why, after all your lectures about caution, did you decide to risk everything and meet an old colleague?”

A storm of emotions was rushing back. The adrenaline had finally worn off and he was suddenly overwhelmed by it all, the shock and the fear and the anger. God, of all that Garak had done, it was the hypocrisy that really irritated him.

“Well following me wasn’t exactly the epitome of caution either, Doctor,” Garak retorted.

Julian just glared.

Garak seemed to give up that defense with a soft exhale. “I hardly would have met Morek if I had known it was him.”

His gaze flickered away but Julian still saw it, defeat written plainly in his eyes and on his forehead. The mask hadn’t just cracked, it had evaporated.

“I take it the irony isn’t lost on you,” Garak said at length, voice low and grim. “I have berated you for carelessness when I am just as much a fool, letting my voice slip like that. There was a time when nothing could faze me, when I was master over every facet of my being. Enemies and friends could fall dead beside me and I’d hardly blink. But now…” He turned back to stare into the night, words fading into silence.

Julian stood gazing at the form of a broken man, but all words escaped him. There were so many things he wanted to know – why Garak had pushed him away, what was behind the decisions he made – but he knew Garak better than that. Probe too deep, and he wouldn’t get anything. This had to be on Garak’s terms.

When Garak broke the silence, his voice was tinged with bitterness. “I know what you’re going to say, Doctor. How soft I’ve grown in my old age, how weak life on Deep Space 9 has made me. How after all these times I warned you not to trust me, there was never anything to fear.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Strange how the voice I hear sounds suspiciously like yours.”

Julian frowned. “Well I can’t help how the voices in your head sound. Do you really think I would be angry at you for _not_ betraying me?”

“Betraying you had never been the plan, Doctor,” Garak retorted.

“Well I’m glad to hear it.”

It was difficult to see much of Garak when he had closed himself off like this, a stiff silhouette, but Julian could see his left hand curling into a fist.

“But I should have been willing to do whatever it took to return home, to serve my people.” He was losing control of his voice, his steadiness faltering.

“Then why didn’t you?”

Garak heaved a long sigh, patience wearing thin, and for a moment it seemed like he might retreat behind his defenses.

“I don’t know…” he finally admitted, pressing a finger to his temple. “Perhaps it was because I knew Morek’s plan would never work, that even if I demonstrated my loyalty by turning you in, Rejal still wouldn’t trust me, wouldn’t believe my warnings about Dukat. Morek is hardly to be trusted anyway – and I can’t risk starting a war with the Federation, Cardassia couldn’t afford it…” His voice trailed away as he shifted his feet, the moonlight winking behind him. “Or perhaps I’m just a sentimental old fool…”

His voice was soft, vulnerable, infused with something Julian hadn’t heard since withdrawal nearly drove Garak mad. Guilt.

“I hadn’t meant to continue this plan. I had _wanted_ to work with you, to find a solution together, even if the constraints of your assignment made that difficult. Morek contacted me just a few hours ago, saying he had heard I was looking to obtain a holoprojector. Perhaps it was always a trap. It’s unclear if he even _could_ procure one, since I couldn’t find any records of inquiries on his computer.” He paused for another deep inhale. “Or perhaps if you hadn’t followed me, I would have walked away with the device I need.”

“Sorry about that,” Julian said, but really, how could he have known what Garak was up to? And the padd –

Garak’s voice cut through his thoughts, patience all but gone. “But that’s not the point, Doctor!” he insisted. “I hadn’t _planned_ any of this. I should have, but I did not. I was content with our present course of action, despite all its setbacks, its inefficiency. All because I didn’t want to lose our friendship.”

 _Oh_ – a flutter in the pit of Julian’s stomach – but he couldn’t district himself with that right now. Garak was growing more agitated by the moment, his shoulders stiff with tension, hands beginning to tremble.

“It’s pathetic, really, how weak I’ve become!” Garak hissed, shame and disgust so shockingly open. “I’ve betrayed years of careful training, I’ve failed in my duty, I’ve sabotaged any chance of returning home! Because I’ve allowed myself to become attached to a Human – a Starfleet officer! Someone who any _good_ Cardassian would consider his enemy!”

The room fell silent as the last syllable died, a confession probably never meant to be whispered aloud. Garak himself seemed surprised by its release, if that sudden jerking and lowering of his head meant anything. Deep breaths, he seemed to be telling himself, his chest rising and falling with deliberate steadiness.

And then there was Julian, standing under the weight of this realization.

God, how had he not seen it before? Garak was only spelling it out now, but all the signs had been there, if only he’d dare look below the surface, not skim past things he thought he understood.

He had thought Garak was just a stubborn old spy clinging to his old spy ways, but all this caution, this fear of vulnerability stemmed from something much deeper than mere paranoia, than even Obsidian Order brainwashing. He was hardly as well versed in psychology as he’d like to be, but it seemed these problems lay deeper than the subconscious. It was something that had become such an inexorable part of Garak through all the experiences that had formed this man, that now as he struggled under its weight, struggled to break free, it was fighting and clawing and refusing to release him.

And here he had been in his own little world, a self-centered fool, not even considering _why_ Garak was afraid of intimacy, like it was just some little quirk that could be pushed away by a persuasive argument. He had never given a thought to how Garak would respond if after opening himself up to such intimacy, it ultimately crumbled. He was so certain he could handle another failed relationship, but what about Garak, how would it hurt him?

God, he really did see only what he wanted to see.

When Garak spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper. “And do you know the most disturbing part?” He drew another steadying breath. “No matter how many times I remind myself of this, of my duty, my training, these mistakes that must not be repeated…I can’t seem to dispel this sentiment. It has inserted itself into my consciousness with an insidious, _unyielding_ grip...And there’s a part of me that doesn’t seem to mind.”

As strange and new as this all was, Garak baring himself to Julian, the gravity of Garak’s struggles tugged at Julian’s heart, stirring his compassion. Somehow he didn’t even think to doubt Garak’s sincerity now – his voice was far too raw. He took a few steps forward until he was by Garak’s side, but not too close, offering an earnest gaze. Garak didn’t turn to meet it, but he continued anyway.

“The Order is gone, Garak,” he said gently. “You’re not beholden to them anymore. You’re free to make your own decisions.”

Garak let out a sigh, continuing to avoid Julian’s gaze. “No, Doctor, I am not free. I am still a Cardassian, and I must remain loyal. I realize this may be difficult for you to understand, but we do not subscribe to the Federation concept of ‘individual liberty.’ We must all live and die in service to the State. Anything less would be treason.”

It was times like these, when he saw what such an ideology did to a person, that Julian was glad for his Federation ideals, biased as he might be toward them. It was no use trying to change Garak’s beliefs when he had been molded by this pedagogy, but he also knew Garak – and that clever, tenacious man was made for so much more than blind conformity.

 “And you can still serve Cardassia…but you’ve never been one to walk in step, at least from what I’ve seen. You forge your own path.”

A vein protruded from Garak’s forehead as he clenched his jaw, his eyes remaining stanchly forward. “Yes, and that path has led me here – a stranger in my own land, forced to wear an alien face just to see my home again.” He raised a hand to touch the door, fingers spreading out against its reflective surface.

Ah. So this had been weighing on him more than he let on, more than that hint of sorrow during their first night on Prime.

“All right, so you made a mistake. A costly one, yes, and maybe not even deserving of this punishment –” He hardly trusted the Cardassian judiciary after what they tried with Miles. “– but you don’t have to let that define you. You aren’t any less a Cardassian, any less Garak. No matter what you did, who you’ve fallen out of favor with, your identity won’t change.”

Garak’s eyes fell shut, withdrawing his hand from the door. “You would think I deserve a harsher sentence if you knew what I did.”

“Well I can’t know that if you won’t tell me what really happened.”

But it wouldn’t be that easy. Garak remained silent, clearly unwilling to answer that question, but it was all right. He couldn’t expect Garak to divulge all his secrets in one night.

“But that’s beside the point,” Julian continued, brushing past it. “If our plan succeeds – if you expose Dukat and save your people from Dominion rule – that will more than atone for whatever you did. Rejal will have no choice but to lift your exile. You’ll be home.” He paused to watch Garak’s face carefully, that little twitch of the lips not escaping his notice. “But in the meantime…”

Garak opened his eyes, moonlight dancing across deep conflict. He remained silent for another moment before drawing a deep breath. “I should set aside all caution, all reason, every lesson that has been arduously learned, and succumb to these desires?”

“That’s for you to decide. You know my opinions on the matter, but I’ll stand by you regardless.”

There was really no question. Yes, that little paranoid part of his mind was whispering its concerns, because if Garak’s harshness last night hadn’t dampened this desire, then surely the implication of his words should have. He knew too much, it was only a matter of time before he knew everything.

But now, standing here beside a different Garak, a conflicted and unguarded and _honest_ Garak…well, it was still a risk, but Julian had never been one to choose security over adventure.

Another sigh and Garak’s defenses had nearly slipped away, not a hint of suppression or artifice in his voice. He offered Julian a look, just a glance, before his eyes fell shut and he bowed his head. “My dear, good Doctor…I still can’t fathom why you would want this.”

A rush of warmth flooded Julian’s chest. He took a step closer.

“But I’m not so good, am I?” he returned softly. “Oh, I try to be, but you were right – I’m far from perfect. I’m as flawed as anyone else.”

God, it felt so liberating to say that. Those doctors _hadn’t_ been able to fix every defect of Jules Bashir, his father _hadn’t_ created the perfect son.

Garak’s eyes were still closed as he shook his head. “I shouldn’t have spoken so harshly yesterday. That was needlessly cruel.”

 _Oh._ As much as Garak’s words had stung, as much as they had bruised Julian’s ego, it was hard not to accept such an apology, so sincere and remorseful and unlike the Cardassian’s usual apologies. Julian needed a moment to find his tongue.

 “I’d like to say I knew you were lying, but…you really hit the nail on the head.”

A soft breath, a shift of cloth, and Garak was finally facing him, dark eyes holding his gaze. “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that idiom.”

Julian let out a little laugh, as ridiculous and unwarranted as it might have been. “It means you were startlingly accurate. I can’t hide anything from you, can I?” he asked, lips settling into a small smile. “You see right through me.”

And suddenly Garak was mirroring his smile, creases fading from his face as the tension drained from his shoulders. “Well, my dear, I _have_ been confined in this apartment with you for over a month. I was bound to make some observations, as I’m sure you have as well.” His grin stretched wider across his face, no teeth and all mischief. “Unless, of course, you’ve been too besotted to notice anything unflattering about myself.”

Julian scoffed, happy and a little giddy at this brightened mood, this obvious bait. “Oh, where do I even begin?” He held out his fingers to give them a proper count. “You’re the most stubborn and guarded man I’ve ever met, not to mention you have terrible taste in literature.”

Garak opened his mouth to object, but Julian would not be interrupted.

“And you can be quite crotchety when something bothers you.” His smile then faded, all playfulness gone, because Garak needed to be certain of his sincerity here.

“You’re very critical of others, but even more so of yourself. You’ve confined yourself to living in the shadow of your past, that you don’t allow yourself any pleasure in the present.” Another step brought him closer, close enough to reach out and touch, but not yet. “You hold anyone who cares about you at a distance, and when someone strays too close, you lash out like a cornered animal. Because you’re afraid.” He refused to release Garak’s gaze, pouring all sentiment into the connection between their eyes. “Afraid you’re beyond redemption.”

It had the intended effect. Garak’s eyes were wide, lips slightly parted, blinking at Julian for a long moment before he regained control. His features flickered back to their playful pretenses, skewed in great offense. “All right, I believe that’s more than fair retribution for what I said.”

But his complaints were hushed by a finger against his lips.

“I’m not finished,” Julian scolded, running that finger down to Garak’s chin. “You lie, not only to protect yourself, but you seem to find a perverse pleasure in confusing your victims.”

That was met with a roll of the eyes, but Julian pressed on, his intent gaze never faltering, as he rested his hand against Garak’s cheek.

“But when you do tell the truth, you can’t seem to hold my gaze.”

He was holding it now well enough, that pleasant, obfuscating smile returning to his lips. “That isn’t entirely accurate, my dear. I’ve told you many truths while looking you in the eye.”

But Julian wasn’t in the mood for these games anymore, not after all that had been shared. “Half-truths, maybe, but I’m talking about real, vulnerable truths, spoken from the heart.” He held Garak’s face in place, the cheek soft under his touch.

But Garak, calm and fearless in so many situations, seemed suddenly unsure under the weight of Julian’s gaze, the weight of the words passed between them. It was as if he was teetering on the edge of this decision, and the next step he took would decide it irrevocably. His steps seemed to falter, gaze shifting away.

Well, Julian could offer a _little_ nudge. Now seemed like just the right moment to reveal this secret.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, Elim.”

Garak’s gaze flickered instantly back, eyes delightfully wide and eyebrows shooting upward, and Julian couldn’t keep the smug little smile off his face, because never in these past few years had he had this pleasure, to see Garak so completely floored, and to be the cause of it.

But then it only got better, those shocked, parted lips curling upward into a smile – a genuine, full smile – beaming with pride. God, if this was what it felt like to impress Garak, he needed to try it more often.

“It seems I’m the one who can no longer hide anything,” Garak marveled, his voice suddenly so affectionate. “Tell me, how did you figure that one out?”

Julian could hardly keep much distance between them now, drawing himself closer as he moved his hand to Garak’s shoulder. “That’s a discussion for another time,” he answered, smiling coyly.

Garak seemed to welcome the contact, raising his own hand to Julian’s shoulder, a mirror image, before leaning forward to rest his forehead against Julian’s. “You’re far more clever than I give you credit for, my dear.”

And there it was again, pulling him in with a gravitational tug, this unknown force that had always enticed him. Julian lifted his hands to the sides of Garak’s face, eyes falling closed as he gently guided their lips together.

He brushed Garak’s lips with a gentle, almost hesitant press, as if he pushed too hard Garak might slip away. But Garak didn’t pull back, not this time. It started with short little kisses, a soft fluttering of lips, but gradually their mouths lingered longer and longer until Julian was sighing happily through his nose, arousal beginning to stir.

And oh, Garak’s tongue was sliding along the seam of Julian’s lips, a polite request. Far too polite, really, after all this waiting. He could hardly contain himself now, lunging forward and wrapping his arms around Garak’s neck, feeding him his tongue.

But Garak, damn him, wouldn’t give into Julian’s urgency, keeping it slow and sensual as he slid his tongue up against Julian’s, cradling the back of his neck oh so gently while his other arm curled around his waist. But mm, this was good too, the first of their kisses they’ve had time to enjoy, and so very warm, warmer than Garak’s mouth had any right to be.

Well, this was all very lovely, but their breathing was growing heavier as they pressed more forcefully, and Julian couldn’t hold back anymore, not with such pent-up need, and Garak seemed to agree, gripping his hair to deepen the kiss. He laughed a little breathlessly against Garak’s mouth, too eager to keep things graceful, and oh, desire was surging through him –  

Garak ended the kiss and pulled back.

God, again? Why? What could it possibly be this time? Julian’s eyes were searching Garak’s face, searching for any sign of regret, anything that might indicate a battle still raging inside him.

But Garak was smiling, actually _laughing_ at him, face flushed and lips a little swollen. “Don’t look so worried, dear. I was only going to suggest we move this to the couch.”

All his worry faded. He smirked, his lips feeling warm and wet but not nearly kissed enough, as he brought his arms back around the Cardassian. “Why not the bedroom?”

And their mouths were crashing together again, harsher and greedier, a little grazing of teeth, a little nip on the bottom lip.

Julian stumbled backward, urging Garak along with him, because they needed to be in the bedroom already, on that impossibly hard mattress, but god, this was too wonderful to break. It wasn’t easy, though, parrying the thrust of Garak’s tongue while trying not to tumble over the corner of the couch.

Garak’s words came out between kisses. “A little…impatient, are we?”

“You have no one to blame but yourself,” Julian breathed against his mouth.

“I suppose I have been –” another fierce kiss – “rather cruel.” He broke away from Julian’s mouth and started running kisses all along his jawline, up to his ear and down the side of his neck.

“Terribly,” Julian gasped as Garak nudged down his collar and began nibbling at his skin, that oh so sensitive spot in the crook of his neck. “I’m still quite upset with you.”

Garak pulled back for just a moment, earning a moan of protest, his hooded gaze falling to the bulge in Julian’s trousers. “I can see that.”

Julian captured that infuriating mouth again, because really, there was no reason for it to be so far away, and good, Garak was starting to walk forward now, guiding their amorous journey to the bedroom. They were nearly across the living room, still trading wet kisses, when Garak pulled away.

He was no longer smiling.

“And you’re certain you want this? Remember who I am. This Human face is only a mask.”

But Julian wouldn’t be deterred by so easily now – he would just have to prove his desire more thoroughly, yes.

Garak’s neck was also quite sensitive, he found, drawing a little gasp from the man as he kissed and nipped down the soft skin. “It’s not a mask, it’s a surgical process by which your scales and skin are removed and Human skin is grafted onto your subcutaneous level, bones – and external organs – are reshaped and cartilage is smoothed, and Human hormones are introduced into your body to suppress – ”

“My dear.” Garak interrupted, an impatient huff.

Julian drew back, planting two firm hands on Garak’s shoulders, gazing intently into his eyes. He really didn’t know, did he? For such a perceptive man, he could still be so clueless.

“Yes, Garak. In truth I’ve wanted this for a while now, longer than I’ve been able to admit. Cardassian or Human, I know I want you.” He offered a firm squeeze – oh, what a lovely little gasp that produced – before pulling his hands back. “Are you sure you want _this_?” he asked, making a sweeping gesture toward himself.

Garak laughed – a clear, delighted laugh – as he took a hold of one of Julian’s hands. “Don’t try to feign humility, dear, it’s not the least bit convincing. You know the power _this_ holds over me.” He pressed a kiss to the inside of Julian’s wrist.

Garak’s eyes were locked onto his, shimmering with affection, that brush of lips so soft, and god, Julian hadn’t been expecting that, such sincerity and warmth. He let out a little laugh before brushing aside these sudden nerves, his arousal straining against his trousers.

“I’m afraid I don’t, actually,” he purred, smooth as silk. “Care to show me?”

Their mouths found their way back together, bodies entangling more urgently, and oh, Garak surely wouldn’t mind if he rolled his hips right there, just a little friction.

No, Garak didn’t seem to mind at all, his hands sliding down Julian’s hips to cup his arse, pressing their erections together. Oh, that was so nice…

They were at the bedroom door now, and it was a good thing, because he really couldn’t wait much longer. He continued to claim kisses – if they could even be called that now, more like open-mouthed collisions – as he reached for the button to open the door, searching, fumbling, _where was it?_

He ended up nearly falling backwards out of Garak’s arms, breathless and laughing as Garak tightened his grip. “I was going for something a little more dramatic,” he said, gracelessly trying to right himself.

Garak waited until he had found his balance to release him, taking the care to smooth out some wrinkles from Julian’s scrubs. “Thank you, dear, but I don’t require any stagecraft,” he said, reaching over to tap the button properly. “Just you.”

The bedroom door slid open with a hiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"I'd tried so, not to give in_   
>  _I said to myself this affair it never will go so well_   
>  _But why should I try to resist when baby I know so well_   
>  _I've got you under my skin"_
> 
>  
> 
> Tune in next week for a scene I've been anticipating and dreading for the last 6 months. (I've been writing this for 6 months??)


	26. Succumb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At last they give in to their desires. Rated E.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to have a few E-rated chapters in this fic, but overall I'm going to keep this listed as an M rating. E-rated chapters will be marked with a warning in the chapter summary. 
> 
> The first half of this chapter is mostly smut, so if that's not your cup of tea, you can skip that part without missing much of the plot.

His legs bumped the foot of the bed and he was falling, crashing down onto the mattress with an eager Cardassian pressed against him, laughing breathlessly into Garak’s mouth.

Julian found himself pinned against the bed, hardly noticing the crash of their lips as his hands started roaming over Garak’s body, seeking out all the spots that might coax little sounds from his friend – no, his lover. Spots that were still a mystery, but he would find them soon enough.

And oh, Garak’s hands were returning in kind, running over Julian’s back and down his ribs and up his thighs and he was far too clothed for this, they both were. His hips were thrusting up on their own accord, chasing that sweet friction, too many layers of cloth between them, hardly caring how wanton he might look panting and rutting. He was long past caring, and honestly, Garak didn’t seem very offended, rolling his hips just as shamelessly, their trapped erections grinding against each other.

But there was a lump beneath him, distracting his focus. He reluctantly broke their kiss to pull Kukalaka out from under his back, laughing when he saw Garak’s impatient scowl. A kiss or two would take care of that. He set Kukalaka on the nightstand, because as loyal as his plush friend was, they needed the whole bed to themselves right now.

God, it was far too hot in here now, had a Cardassian night ever felt _this_ sweltering? There was only one solution, really, one he was certain Garak would appreciate. Giving the man one more solid kiss, he sat up and pulled off his shirt, flinging it off the side of the bed.

Yes, Garak certainly seemed to appreciate that, eyes roving openly across Julian’s smooth, bare chest, as if he knew that predatory smirk would send goosebumps all over Julian’s body. 

“Skipping right to the main event? I was under the impression that Humans enjoyed copious amounts of foreplay.”

“We’ve had five weeks of foreplay, Garak!” Julian huffed. Really, foreplay was all fine and good, but it was a little excessive, the way this had been drawn out. Probably the longest he had had to wait for any fuck (well, besides Jadzia, but that had always been a lost cause) and god, the wait was finally over, and he wouldn’t waste any more time with some elaborate strip tease. As appealing as the thought was…but no, there’d be plenty of time for that later.

He grabbed hold of Garak’s tunic and began pushing it up his body, searching out the claps that kept it fastened at his neck. It was a peculiar design, something made to follow current Human fashion trends, high-necked and minimalist, with just a bit of Garak’s personal Cardassian flair in the cut of the hem…but that hardly mattered right now because it was pulled up over his head and flung to the floor to join Julian’s shirt.

Garak’s eyes widened in horror at the treatment. “Doctor –”

But Julian was beyond all consideration, needing to feel skin on skin as he wrapped his arms around Garak’s bare torso, hands wandering the soft expanse of his back. “No, I’m not ‘Doctor,’ not now,” he breathed, mouth against mouth. “Call me Julian.”

Garak ran a hand down Julian’s spine, earning a little shiver. “As you wish, Julian.”

It sounded so lovely on Garak’s tongue, so tender, so intimate, like that finger stroking lower and lower down Julian’s back, that he needed to taste that tongue some more. And oh, Garak had hooked his fingers under Julian’s waistband now, caressing the skin just above the cleft of his arse.

“Shall we take these off too, since you’re so very eager to get on with it?”

Well, Julian certainly had no objections. He untangled himself from Garak’s embrace without ceremony and hopped off the bed. There was no point trying to wriggle out of his trousers among the sheets when there was a much quicker way of doing things.

“As if you aren’t just as eager,” he scoffed. His trousers fell to the ground with one sharp tug, briefs sliding down with them. 

But Garak was a little busy fiddling with his own trousers, fumbling with what looked like an overly complex Human-style fly, too many clasps and fasteners, something only a Cardassian could have designed. “I must admit these weeks have not been easy for me either, but…”

His eyes landed on Julian and his words ran dry.

All right, maybe Julian was preening a little under Garak’s gaze, those lust-darkened eyes so deliberate in their focus. It was a little exhilarating to be looked at in such a way, as if he was something so unexpectedly beautiful, something to be tasted and savored, the thrill sending blood straight to his erection. He reached down and gave himself a little stroke, just a tease, biting back a sigh. Not nearly enough, but it put quite the expression on Garak’s face.

Garak was still watching enrapt when he found his tongue, continuing as if he hadn’t been overwhelmed by the sight of his naked lover. “You, my dear, are exceptionally eager.”

And then it was Garak’s move, rendering Julian just as fascinated as he leaned back and kicked off his own shoes and trousers and undergarments, simple and effortless. The efficient tailor.

Julian knew when to admit defeat, lips parting as he stared openly at the naked man in his bed. God, it was enticing, that little bob of Garak’s cock when it first sprung free from his trousers, that deep red flush and slight leftward lean, that light dusting of hair from his belly button to his heavy sac.

But also…strange. Julian had always associated something exotic with Garak, his appearance, his clothes his customs. And that had still seemed to persist, even after his body had been altered, because Garak’s mind was anything but ordinary. But now, well, he couldn’t help but see this as a little more ordinary than he expected.

But no, as much as this Human body wasn’t Garak’s true Cardassian form, it was still Garak. Only the external had changed. Garak could receive just as much pleasure from it. Yes, it was practically demanding to be pleasured…

Garak seemed to be enjoying Julian’s appreciation, luxuriating in it, even, as he leaned back on his forearms. “Perhaps I simply make too irresistible a Human.”

Vaguely Julian knew that Garak was still finishing his thought from earlier, but it took him a few moments to recall what that was. “I told you before, I’ve always been attracted to you,” he insisted, reclining beside Garak on the bed, half-turned to face him. “But being in such close quarters here, I couldn’t escape it any longer.”

Lips reunited and the dance continued, bickering with probing tongues and curious hands. Ah, this felt much nicer now, every caress intensified, no longer anything in the way of their exploration. Julian’s hands were roaming freely, searching out all the soft, smooth places that used to be adorned with ridges and scales. Of course he would have to guess in some areas.

But Garak was still intent on continuing their discussion, breaking the kiss to nibble down Julian’s jaw.

 “Forgive me if I find that hard to believe,” he murmured against Julian’s neck, kissing and nipping and eliciting all sorts of little sounds. “You’ve never been one to keep that sort of thing to yourself.”

Julian sighed as Garak continued to tease his neck, mouthing his way down the side. His hand was back on his cock with eager twisting strokes, just enough to ease some tension without bringing himself too close to the edge.

“Well what about you?” he asked, inhaling sharply as Garak scraped his teeth over his shoulder. “You were hardly throwing yourself at me either. Oh, there was that first time, with your ‘enjoyable company’ and your hand on my shoulder, but then you stopped. I couldn’t tell if you were still interested.”

“My dear…I thought I was quite obvious under the circumstances, arguing with you so shamelessly – and in public, no less!”

Garak’s attentions were now on his collarbone, taking the time to nip all along its edge, and as lovely as that was, as lovely as the sensations his own hand was wringing, he would rather it be Garak’s hand stirring such pleasure. His other hand was dancing across Garak’s chest, a little too overwhelmed with the biting to wander lower yet. He didn’t want to complain, but Garak was focusing a rather long time on his neck and shoulders, hands roaming everywhere but where he needed them most. Still playing this game.

“Oh, I must have been blind not to see what a scoundrel you were,” Julian murmured, as sarcastic as he could sound between heavy breaths. His hand dipped lower down Garak’s soft, round belly, patience wearing thin.

“Perhaps I did flirt rather brazenly, but it was only because I never thought – _ah_ – we’d end up here.”

That sharp inhale was definitely worth it. Julian smirked as his fingers wrapped tighter around Garak’s cock, finding a steady pumping rhythm.

So Garak had never stopped wanting this, the sneaky bastard. If he had just been a little more obvious, this could have happened sooner. Julian doubted his own denial would have lasted long against a Garak as open and seductive as their first encounter.

But that hardly mattered anymore, because now he had Garak’s cock in his hand – not what he had expected, but still his cock – producing such a gorgeous expression on Garak’s face, all surprise and bitten-back pleasure. He felt a little powerful, really, having Garak so vulnerable and open like this, quickly losing his restraint. God, he really couldn’t wait much longer, his own hand starting to stroke himself faster.

“You said you had plans, did you?” Julian asked, pulling out of a bruising kiss. “Plans for our first time?”

And suddenly he was being pushed back into the mattress, losing hold of Garak’s erection as his lover climbed on top of him, arms braced on either side of his face.

Garak raked his gaze over his prey, eyes glowing with lust. “More than once I’ve imagined taking you like this, with you writhing and moaning beneath me, so responsive, such delightful noises.”

Julian’s legs spread wider to accommodate his captor, and oh, when Garak leaned forward, their cocks slid together and he couldn’t help but sigh. He lifted his head for just a moment to watch the sensual duel, the image sending fire through his body.

Then his gaze returned to Garak.

“Well I have my own plans.”

Garak hadn’t seen it coming, eyes widening as Julian grasped his shoulders and forced him to the mattress, rolling on top of him and straddling his legs. The Cardassian was suddenly the one at a disadvantage, and honestly, by the way he smirked, he didn’t seem to mind.

“You’re stronger than you look,” Garak murmured.

Garak looked so lovely like this, lying beneath him, his pleasure at Julian’s mercy. But then his hand was on Julian’s cock, and shit, he had reclaimed his power, stroking its length with loose up and down movements, a little clumsy as he explored unfamiliar territory. His strokes didn’t go quite high enough after that, gripping and stroking at the base. A little inexperienced with this method, at least compared to Julian’s own breadth of experience, but god, it still felt so good, his body’s desperate cries slipping out in a moan.

“Tell me, dear, what do your plans entail?” Garak looked quite pleased with himself, the bastard.

But Garak’s own reddened erection looked a little neglected, and well, it was only fair he return the favor. “Hmm,” Julian hummed, finding a quick pace. “I think I’ll ride you like this, watch you gasp and hiss as I fuck myself open on your cock.”

Garak’s eyes only seemed to darken further, a laugh rumbling in his chest. “My, what a filthy mouth you have. If you were Cardassian that would be considered terribly rude.”

“Oh? And how would such rudeness be punished?” Julian thrust lightly into Garak’s palm as his own hand continued to work furiously.

 “With copious private lewdness infractions, depending on the severity – _oh.”_

There was that surprise again, as if Garak was caught off guard by the pleasure Julian’s hand elicited, twisting his wrist over the head of Garak’s erection. A groan reverberated between them.

Julian let out a little breathless laugh as he continued his ministrations. “You can’t lie to me while I hold your cock, Garak.”

Garak seemed to take the hint, quite the fast learner as he quickened his pace, an experimental thumbing of the tip, just where Julian liked it, slipping back the foreskin just a bit.

“Oh god, yes, like that – fuck…”

“You’re the one who seems to be struggling with your words, dear.”

God, he should be annoyed by that smug grin, but it only sent another surge of heat through him, hips shuddering to chase the sensation. It was almost enough, so very close. The pressure was building deep in his core, a sharp and sweet tightening in his balls…but no, he couldn’t slip off the edge, not yet.

“ _Garak…”_ he practically whined, forcing his hips still. “This isn’t how I want our first time to end.”

Garak’s wrist kept pumping, damn him. “End?” he breathed. “Are you there already?”

“You sound just about there yourself… _Fuck_ …”

Yes, Garak was breathing just as heavily as Julian, just as flushed as the heat burning through Julian’s body, letting soft little grunts and hisses escape his mouth, sounds Julian never thought he’d hear from Garak, and oh god, he was so close now, his body was tensing, the pleasure was mounting, it was nearly unbearable –

But he fell just before reaching the peak, his desperate cock suddenly abandoned, and for a moment all he could do was glare at Garak, body pulsing and legs quivering until he emerged from his disappointed haze. Exhaling shakily, he released Garak’s length and gripped his own firmly at the base, just to lessen the pressure.

Another few seconds and he was breathing steadily again. But his cheeks were still burning, flustered and a little embarrassed by how quickly he had almost come undone. If Garak thought he was normally like this…

But Garak was smiling at him, nothing but desire in his eyes, as he slipped his hands under Julian’s buttocks and began kneading. “As lovely as your plan sounds…”

And suddenly Julian was beneath him again, pressed into the pillows by two demanding hands.

“…I have seniority,” Garak finished, smirking in triumph. One rough kiss and he pulled back, coaxing Julian’s legs open and settling between them.

“How does that figure? I’m Chief Medical Officer of…”

His argument died on his kiss-swollen lips when he saw what Garak was doing, kneeling primly between his obscenely spread legs, eyeing Julian’s genitals with an oddly bemused expression. _Oh._ He was ready.

God, but they weren’t ready, they had rushed into this without even figuring out the logistics, and as urgently as desire throbbed inside him, he had to fight through the fog and do this properly…however _this_ was to be done.

“Oh, uh…So how should we do this?” he asked, his face flushing even hotter. “I’m afraid I didn’t think to pack any lube.”

A stupid, stupid oversight, but space had been limited, and how was he supposed to have anticipated this?

Garak’s gaze had fallen a little lower now, very curiously focused on Julian’s anus. Pushing past his sudden nerves, Julian offered him a better view, raising his hips and spreading his legs wider.

“It doesn’t seem this produces much lubricant,” Garak observed, rubbing a finger over the tip of his own erection, wiping off the pre-ejaculate. Then he peered closer at Julian’s exposed arse, pursing his lips. “Does your hole not secrete any?”

“No – _ah.”_ His pucker fluttered against Garak’s finger as he brushed it lightly, offering not so much as a  warning before touching the most private part of Julian’s body. And suddenly Julian’s nerves had returned, a little self-conscience under such close scrutiny. “I’m sorry if it’s a bit dirty, I cleaned it last night but I would have cleaned it again if I’d known…” God, he was rambling, that wasn’t helping…

But Garak’s gaze reassured him, eyeing the opening with such clear desire, that Julian almost felt proud, and perhaps a little wanton and exposed under such a gaze.

“It looks lovely,” Garak murmured, tickling it again, pupils widening as it fluttered in response.

Julian’s hand had returned to his cock, the sensations at his anus too lovely not to enhance with a bit of stroking. He kept the pace leisurely this time, not wanting this to end any time soon. “Cardassian males produce their own lube?” he asked, eyeing Garak’s poor neglected erection.

“Why, Julian, I thought you knew.” Garak slapped an arse cheek as his other hand continued its exploration.

Julian huffed, swallowing a gasp. “It’s not like I had a wealth of knowledge on DS9.”

“But you do at the hospital. You mean you haven’t researched it?”

“I’ve been busy – _Fuck!”_

Again Garak had violated him without warning, his finger pushing past the first ring of muscle into Julian’s anus. But no, he really couldn’t claim any violation here, because there was no question what he wanted, gasping and shivering and stroking himself harder as that fingertip continued its probing, even as it stretched and burned.

“My goodness, this is tight,” Garak observed helpfully, sliding his finger a little ways out before pressing back in.

It had to be only a quarter of the way in, but god, his hole felt more stretched than it ought to. It wasn’t properly moistened, of course, just a little bit of pre-ejaculate Garak had supplied, but it had been a lot longer than he realized since masturbation led his fingers back there, and even longer since anything else had filled him.

“It’s been a while,” he admitted, shifting a little uncomfortably. “Do you have anything that might…?”

Garak’s eyes were still focused on Julian’s hole, pulsing and fluttering around the intrusion. “As a species we’ve never had need for sexual lubricants, but scale oil may be suitable.” His gaze flickered up to Julian’s face. “I didn’t bring any with me, for obvious reasons, but the replicator should be programmed to produce it.”

And suddenly Garak was removing his finger and rising from the bed, giving Julian quite the view of his arse as he walked out into the living room.

Now that he was gone, Julian could take a moment to make himself properly sexy, brushing the hair back from his sweat-slick forehead and situating his head more comfortably on the pillows. Oh, perhaps a pillow would be helpful under his hips, as firm and oddly shaped as it was.

Shifting into a comfortable position, he awaited Garak’s return with his arse raised temptingly on a pillow – not unlike a dessert on a platter, really – stroking his cock leisurely. And Garak was not disappointed, it seemed, when he returned with a little vial, staring mesmerized at the exquisite creature he was about to bed.

Julian grinned, luxuriating in that gaze, and began exaggerating his strokes, sliding back the foreskin and pushing it back up – not exactly a show, but just enough of a tease to drive Garak mad.

“Enjoying the view?” he purred, silky and seductive.

Garak blinked, his easy smile returning. “Not as much as you’re enjoying your _prUt_ , I’d imagine.”

Another long stroke down his shaft, exposing the glistening dark head. “I’d rather be enjoying your _prUt,_ ” Julian returned.

Oh yes, Garak certainly seemed to like that word on his tongue, looking very pleased as he crawled onto the bed.

He relinquished his erection a little reluctantly as Garak approached. “How do you want me?” He sat up and settled on his knees, turning around to offer Garak his arse.

Garak’s chuckle echoed behind him.

“As enticing as this angle is…” He put his hands on Julian’s sides and rolled him over, an offering spread out on his back. “I would rather see this lovely face as well, in all its over-expressive glory.”

And then Garak was lying beside him, reclining on his side as he squeezed a little oil out of vial, coating his finger. God, he was doing that deliberately slow, eyes darting to Julian mischievously before raking downward to their prize, and Julian’s hole gave a little twitch of anticipation. Julian’s hand was back on his cock, wringing as much pleasure as he dared, so desperate and impatient but he had to retain control.

A slick finger slid inside him and ah, that was much better, the burn was less sharp this time. Garak seemed to be waiting for an indication that he was enjoying this, but he didn’t have to wait long, a little whimper escaping Julian’s lips. Garak was less tentative after that, but his finger moved far slower than Julian needed right now, so he would just have to stroke himself faster, up and down with little twists, his other hand reaching down to cup his balls gently. Garak raised an eyebrow at that, his focus alternating between Julian’s face and what his finger was doing inside him, stretching and provoking such lovely little shivers.

God, he wanted to kiss that smugness right off Garak’s stupid face, but he couldn’t reach, Garak was too far down there. He hadn’t picked up the pace much, clearly enjoying the growing desperation on Julian’s face as a single finger writhed leisurely inside him.

His impatient moan only darkened Garak’s smile, but he really didn’t care at this point, eyes falling shut against the heat surging through him. But it was just an itch, an itch that demanded much more than Garak was giving, and if he had to resort to begging, well, he really didn’t have much dignity to lose, legs spread wide like a regular exhibitionist, his anus eagerly swallowing a finger.

Another finger slowly eased its way in beside the first, and yes, that was even better, the stretch tight but not unpleasant, but it could only satisfy him for so long before his body begged for more, for the moment he had been anticipating for five long weeks.

“All right,” he panted, tasting salt on his upper lip. “I think that’s enough.”

“It is still quite tight, my dear.” Garak looked rather skeptical, wriggling his fingers deeper, and _fuck_ he had found it, he had brushed up against Julian’s prostate, but then his fingers were gone, prodding everywhere but there, and Julian couldn’t help but whine.

But that only earned him a dark chuckle. “And it sounds like you’re enjoying it.”

God, he should have known Garak would be like this, taking such perverse pleasure in his torment, teasing his prostate with the lightest of touches before withdrawing almost completely out of him. Julian bucked his hips, trying to pull those fingers deeper, yearning to find that spot again.

“I’d enjoy it more if it was your cock,” he panted, eyeing that cock hungrily. Really, it was cruel how Garak ignored it, flushed and hard and pleading against his belly, but Garak was too focused on torturing Julian to take care of his own needs, and Julian couldn’t reach it. “And you would too.”

Garak’s fingers found their mark and a jolt of lightning coursed through Julian’s body. “Gah…Please…Elim…” Shakily he raised his head and fixed Garak with a look, pleading and demanding and more than a little frustrated.

His efforts weren’t in vain, rewarded with a husky laugh and a slap on the bottom. “How can I say no to that?”

And suddenly Julian found himself empty, slick hole pulsing in its abandonment, but oh, stop, it would all be worth it soon. Garak had finally stopped playing games, it seemed, wasting no time in coating his cock with scale oil, sucking air through his teeth as he slicked up the shaft.

The moment Garak was within reach Julian attacked, grabbing a fistful of hair and crashing their mouths together. He was a little demanding in his kisses, perhaps, but Garak seemed to be very appreciative, moaning as Julian invaded his mouth and bit down on his lower lip, tugging before releasing. Yes, Garak was content to be on the receiving end of this kiss, a little busy with their lower halves right now. He was settled between Julian’s knees, holding up Julian’s bottom with one hand as he guided his cock with the other, but they were writhing too much against one another, Julian snapping his hips as he claimed kiss after kiss, and Garak seemed to be having a little trouble positioning himself properly, slippery cock sliding against Julian’s sac.

“Ah, just a moment, Julian.” Garak escaped Julian’s mouth with a reassuring smile, patting his arse lightly as he sat up, hands sliding down to support under Julian’s knees as he pulled his legs back.

A moment more and Garak was sliding inside, warm tip pushing past the dual rings of muscle, and oh, maybe he should have let Garak stretch him out more. The scale oil was a little thinner than his favorite lube but, shit, it _had_ been a while since he had taken a cock. Garak’s Human penis wasn’t abnormally large, but as it inched inside him, pushing deeper and deeper until he was filled to the hilt, it felt massive.

He bit his lip, trying not to let any less than pleasured grunts escape his mouth, and held his breath. He couldn’t open his eyes, a little nervous that Garak could sense his temporary discomfort. Just a few moments, then he would adjust, then it would feel brilliant.

But oh, now Garak was stroking his aching cock and that was a little better, the sting was fading, and he was being so gentle inside him right now, so considerate, allowing him time to accommodate the intrusion before moving.

“How is that?” Garak asked, leaning down to plant a kiss at the corner of Julian’s mouth.

“It’s good, it’s good,” Julian breathed. “Just give me a minute.”

His eyes slid closed and their mouths pressed together, so gentle, so tender, it was really quite sweet, but as they continued trading short little kisses, Julian opened his mouth and desire surged inside him. Their tongues began to tangle and oh, his patience was completely gone now, and even if it stung, he needed to feel this.

His hips shuddered upward and it burst through him, a swell of pleasure-pain that had him moaning and trembling. “Ohh…You can move now.”

Garak gave his cock a sharp tug. “Demanding, this one.”

He was about to retort, something clever and brilliant that would astound Garak with his wit, but suddenly Garak was moving inside him, and fuck, he wasn’t sure he could even speak, every thought coming out as a long moan or high-pitched whine.

Oh, but that wasn’t quite it, as lovely as it was. Garak wasn’t really thrusting into him, it was more of a side-to-side wriggling motion, and it did feel good, but god, he really couldn’t stand any more of this teasing, not when he had Garak deep inside him, panting and sweating above him, clever hand working his shaft.

He bucked his hips up to thrust Garak deeper, finding a steady one-two-three, and oh, there it was again, Garak’s cock had found his prostate, and Julian’s hands latched onto his lover’s hips, coaxing him into his thrusts. Garak still wasn’t focusing enough attention on the tip of his cock, but Julian’s nerve endings were already on fire, every sensation intensified. They had settled into a nice rhythm, an up of Julian’s hips, a down of Garak’s cock, his hole fluttering around the slick in-and-out slide, and the pressure was building again, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could last under such attentions.

Garak seemed in much the same state, the last of his control slipping away as he grunted with each thrust, eyes wide in awe at the pleasure that was flooding his body, hissing and moaning. His forehead was wrinkled in concentration, his lips parted, skin flushed and shimmering with sweat in the dim lamplight, creating such an intoxicating image that Julian had to close his own eyes before it overwhelmed him.

It wouldn’t be long now. Julian wrapped his legs around Garak’s hips to pull him even deeper, but damnit, Garak wasn’t kissing him nearly enough, so he surged up to capture Garak’s mouth, dragging him down as he fell against the pillow.

Garak had found a nice thrust now as they traded open-mouthed moans, and it was all so overwhelming, his hand wringing pleasure from Julian’s cock, his tip hitting Julian’s prostate over and over, but then he thrust a little too hard and ooh, that wasn’t as pleasant. They both let out a groan, eyes flickering open, Garak panting a wordless apology. He tried a few lighter thrusts and ah, yes, that was perfect. Just like that…

Their limbs were bumping together as they tried to keep in time, Garak’s handful trapped between their bodies as he leaned over Julian to meet his demands, stroking and kissing and trying to hold himself up with one arm braced on the bed. And Julian, with arms around Garak’s neck and legs around Garak’s hips, clung to him with a bruising grip, sweat-slick bodies writhing together. It was clumsy and not at all graceful, but it was all so new and intense, that that hardly mattered.

Neither of them could find words anymore, helpless against these sensations, communicating through little whimpers from Julian when Garak struck his prostate just right, sharp hisses from Garak when Julian’s arse clenched in response.

Garak suddenly broke the kiss and released Julian’s cock, propping his forearms on either side of Julian’s face. Julian’s eyes flew open, ready to object, but oh, Garak was trembling against him, head falling in the crook of Julian’s neck, grunting with every thrust and wriggle. He was so close, hips snapping with quick, deliberate undulations, thrusting deeper and deeper until a tremor ripped through him, moaning and gasping and _biting,_ teeth sinking into Julian’s shoulder.

“Ah! Julian – ”

Warm liquid shot inside Julian, and he frantically grabbed his cock, stroking and stroking as it threatened to undo him. And that was all he needed to go hurdling over the edge himself, climax roiling through him in one shuddering wave. He was lost, he was overcome, detached from the noises flowing from his mouth – _“Oh fuck oh god Elim I can’t –_ ” crying through the spasms and pulsing, no longer caring who heard him, toes curling and fingers digging into Garak’s back.

Pressure released and the fog slowly parted, thrumming haze fading into heavy breaths and sweltering heat. God, when had it gotten this hot? He was burning up, skin drenched in sweat, his abdomen sticky with his seed, and suddenly Garak was collapsing on top of him and he was buried under more warmth and sweat.

Well, at least they had found a surefire way to raise Garak’s body temperature. He’d have to tuck that away for future reference.

Garak’s mouth was at Julian’s ear, panting breaths making him shiver. For a moment they just lay there letting the aftershocks roll through, Garak still nestled inside, Julian touching himself lightly, fading into peaceful bliss. Garak seemed just as drained by his release, inhaling deeply against Julian’s hair. And there was his heartbeat, thumping so close and heavy against Julian’s chest that it felt like his own.

But it had to end, of course. As much as he wanted to lie here basking in Garak’s embrace, coated in their own wonderful filth, his senses were returning and this wasn’t the most comfortable position, one sticky hand trapped between their bodies.

“Garak,” he whispered, nudging Garak’s hair with his nose.

“Mmm…”

“My hand is going numb.”

Garak grunted and stirred, pushing himself back up on his arms, lifting off of Julian’s chest. His cock was half flaccid as it gently slid out of Julian’s hole. “Sorry, my dear,” he murmured, and god, that smile was so simple, devoid of any subtext or deceit or guardedness, that Julian really couldn’t doubt his feelings at that moment.

All Julian could do was laugh, breathless and giddy and so stupidly happy, using his clean hand to brush the hair that clung to his sweaty forehead. His chest was still heaving as he glanced down at the mess he had made, a little swell of pride when he saw his mess on Garak’s belly.

“Fuck, that was good…” he sighed.

But Garak was staring at him now, smile slightly different, eyes roving over Julian with a little too much scrutiny.

“What?” Julian asked with another laugh. He shifted slightly under that peculiar gaze, just the least bit self-conscious as he continued to hold his spent cock, fondling it lazily.

Garak’s gaze turned appreciative as he continued to ogle, idly stroking Julian’s knee. “You look quite lovely like that, my darling. Better than I had imagined.”

That was enough to stroke Julian’s ego, leaving him happy and content as he relaxed into the sheets. The heat had faded into a much more pleasant warmth. “This whole thing was a little different than I imagined,” he admitted, sweeping his gaze over Garak’s body. Yes, very different, but not any less attractive, especially like that, all flushed and slick with sweat, his mouth red and swollen, his hair a little mussed. Not the well-groomed tailor or nurse now, was he?

But then Garak was drawing back from Julian’s arms, sitting back on his heels. “I had anticipated some difficulties with my first mammalian partner, but somehow I didn’t expect to be operating with mammalian equipment,” he said with a small smile. “I’ll admit I have more to learn about this body than I realized.”

“Oh, no, it was still very good,” Julian quickly assured him. In truth he probably hadn’t been the best lover either, hungry and desperate and too focused on satisfying his own needs, but that was okay. First times were rarely ever perfect – especially with Garak’s particular challenges. There would be plenty of time to improve the minor flaws. It would take a while to get this initial pent-up hunger out of his system, but they were off to a good start. “Just different than what I pictured when I first met you.”

All tension released from Garak’s shoulders and he was back to his oddly unguarded smile, sending warmth surging through Julian’s body. If it meant seeing this smile more often, Julian would gladly fuck Garak every night for the rest of this mission, for the rest of – well, that was getting a little too ahead of himself. It was all this lovely oxytocin flooding his brain, giving this a sense of permanency. But he would enjoy it, live in this moment, for as long as he could.

“Oh?” Garak asked, drawing him back to their conversation. “Did our first meeting have that strong an effect on you?”

Garak was rummaging through Julian’s nightstand now, pulling out a pack of sanitary wipes from the top drawer like he knew exactly where to find them. Then he began to clean himself, wiping the sweat from his chest and the seed from his belly, but it was really no use getting all clean and proper now, because Julian remembered how debauched Garak had looked, and he wasn’t likely to forget that image any time soon.

He smiled and settled back into the pillows as Garak began to clean him, wiping the ejaculate from his hand and abdomen. “Well I’d be lying if I said I didn’t give it _some_ thought as I lay in bed that night, very confused – ah, please be gentle.” Garak had moved to Julian’s cock now, fondling it a little too vigorously with his sanitary wipe. “It’s very sensitive right now.”

Garak’s touch became gentler as he wiped off the rest of the mess. “I assure you, Julian, under normal, more Cardassian circumstances, you would hardly be able to speak right now.”

Julian laughed softly and closed his eyes, warm lethargy slowly embracing him. “I’ll hold you to that.”

A fresh wipe brushed at Julian’s anus. He opened his eyes to find Garak peering at it intently, more than a little fascinated as he examined the mess he had made of it.

“This looks significantly more relaxed now,” the Cardassian observed, running the wipe around the outer ring of muscle.

Julian sighed happily, folding his arms behind his head. “It’s been thoroughly fucked.” A final wipe and his opening twitched.

“Not thoroughly enough, I think. Perhaps we might…?”

 _Oh._ Garak’s eyes were darkened with lust again, so expectant, so hopeful, and god, of course he wanted to, but his limbs felt like jelly right now, he didn’t want to move just yet, and honestly, it was a little strange that Garak was already itching for round two.

“Oh, yes, just…give me a minute. Cardassians must have shorter refractory periods than Humans…But with all the Human hormones in your body, you might need a little time too.” He lifted his head to see a firm erection between Garak’s thighs. “Or not.”

A chuckle rumbled deep in Garak’s chest. “It’s been a long time since someone has managed to excite me like this.”

“Come here.” Julian opened his arms and Garak obliged, nestling into his embrace and pulling him into a kiss. It was soft and lazy, tongues mingling lightly, and after a moment Julian drew back. “Just a few more minutes, then I’ll be ready,” he promised. They traded a few more kisses before he felt the need to add, “My refractory period is usually shorter than this, you know. That took a lot out of me.”

Garak’s hand was running down Julian’s thigh, and oh, that did feel quite nice. “Take your time, dear,” the Cardassian murmured. “This view alone is enough to keep me occupied…Though I must say I find it strange how the Human _prUt_ expands so dramatically when aroused. And the way it just hangs there the rest of the time, so vulnerable.”

All right, Garak seemed a little too interested in his flaccid cock. Julian shifted under his scrutiny. “Well you have one now too, so no more complaints,” he retorted, reaching down and giving Garak’s erection a light tug.

Garak sighed happily at the contact. “You shouldn’t take it as an insult, my dear, merely an observation on the impracticality of Human reproductive anatomy. Would it heal your bruised ego to know I find your _prUt_ singularly enticing?”

“It would, thank you.”

 

* * *

 

A solid body pressing against him, a soft mouth trading warm, sleepy kisses, and oh, this really was a delightful dream. One of his best.

Ah, but if this was a dream, it was strangely vivid, down to the scratch of stubble and the staleness of breath, the dull ache in his inner thigh muscles and his – oh. Eyes shooting open, he found a smiling face and a naked body pressed snuggly against him.

“Good morning, Julian.”

Garak’s voice sent pleasant tingles through his body, such a tender little greeting whispered in Kardasi. And oh, Julian quite liked the sound of his name in such a thick Kardasi accent, the “J” softer, the “L” a tap of the tongue against the hard palate. It sounded far more elegant than “Sid.”

And all he could do was blink stupidly for a few seconds. “Oh, hello,” he replied in Standard, a little too sleepy to bother with Kardasi. But oh, not too sleepy to remember last night, all the lovely things they had done to each other. He pressed another kiss to Garak’s lips.

Garak chuckled, drawing back to where his face was no longer blurry, and oh, there was a pillow crease on his cheek. A little more adorable than he had any right to be in the morning. Julian probably looked terrible.

“You sound surprised to see me. Were you expecting someone else?”

Julian closed the distance between them, stealing another kiss before replying, “No, it just took me a moment to remember what happened.”

“Was it that forgettable?”

“Perhaps.”

“Mm…it doesn’t seem this has forgotten.” Garak’s hand wrapped around Julian’s cock under the blankets – where had these blankets come from? – and began stroking it.

Julian let out a little gasp at the sudden contact, half-hard already from their sleepy caresses, and yes, he was definitely ready for round two now. See, his refractory period was quite fast, it had only been –

He shot up in bed when he read the chronometer – _0500 hours?_

“Elim, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

But Garak only smiled, sitting up to coax Julian back into his arms. “No need to apologize, my dear. It’s hardly _your_ fault I wore you out. We can pick up where we left off.”

All embarrassment faded as their bodies slid together, desire stirring sharp and demanding within him. There was still enough time before their shifts for one – maybe two – more rounds. His hands traveled down Garak’s body until reaching his cock, gripping it without preamble as Garak returned the favor. His mouth was down at Garak’s neck now, planting little kisses that made his lover sigh, and a sudden bite that had him gasping.

“Mm, you really like that,” Julian murmured against his skin.

Garak chuckled through a soft moan. “It does feel nice, but the pleasure isn’t quite what I’m used to.”

Julian raised his head and glared. Really, what a rude –

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean it like that, dear,” Garak quickly amended. “I mean that without ridges, there’s only so much pleasure a neck can experience.”

Placated, Julian fell back into his arms. “What a shame…” he sighed as Garak apologized for the offense, thumb teasing the tip of his cock. “But there are plenty of other places where Humans _can_ experience …ah...intense pleasure. If you’re interested.”

“I’m at your disposal.”

The dance continued, stroking and kissing and frotting against one another, little moans and hisses, but so different from last night. They were relaxed now, a leisurely pace, no longer racing against their bursting desires, taking the time to explore one another properly, touch every secret spot, experience every little sensation.

And his mind was far clearer now, remembering not just last night’s frenzy, but the conversation that had preceded it, and all the meaning that it held.

“Are you glad you succumbed?” Julian whispered against Garak’s lips, rolling his hips to press their erections together.

Garak huffed. “That’s a little difficult to answer objectively when you’re doing that.”

“I asked about your feelings, Garak. That hardly warrants an objective answer.” He was playing with Garak’s foreskin now, earning happy little hisses that sounded so lovely from Garak’s mouth.

“You’ve really managed to ensnare me, my _homme fatale_ ,” Garak murmured, pressing a kiss to Julian’s forehead. But he gave Julian no time to respond to that little reference, hushing him with a twist of the wrist before continuing. “There is one thing I’d like to know.”

“Hmm?” Julian hummed against Garak’s neck.

“How you managed to follow me last night. You weren’t even here when I left.”

“Oh. I followed your map.”

Garak’s hand stilled around Julian’s arousal. “My map?”

Julian’s eyes fluttered open, a little confusion pushing through the haze. “Yes, on the padd you left on the table, which really, you must have been in quite a hurry to just leave it there…”

“I left no padd.”

Julian froze, stopping his ministrations as he looked up at Garak. “Then who did?”

The moment was ruined, arousal pushed aside by the confusion and dread welling inside Julian. He sat up abruptly and untangled himself from Garak’s grasp, throwing back the blanket and hopping out of bed. Garak was right behind him as he left the bedroom, neither of them taking the time to dress.

The padd was right where Julian had left it, lying innocuously on the table. Garak took it in his hands and began inspecting it, frowning silently as he searched its contents. There was only the map, it seemed, appearing just as Julian remembered. But other than that, it looked like an ordinary Cardassian-engineered padd, no clues as to who the owner might be. Julian even retrieved his tricorder to scan for traces of biometric markers, but he only found his and Garak’s fingerprints.

Once he had examined it thoroughly, Garak set down the padd and voiced his thoughts. “It’s clear that someone with access to our apartment planted this here for you to find. Someone who knew my location.”

Julian looked back at Garak, uneasiness beginning to grow. His eyes made a quick scan of the room, just to be certain the intruder wasn’t still nearby. “Do you think the Bureau is onto us?” he asked, voice falling to a whisper.

“I won’t completely rule out the possibility of a Bureau agent,” Garak replied, straightening his shoulders. “But there is someone more likely, someone we know has been here before.”

“…Telma.” Yes, it was very likely indeed, especially since Julian couldn’t recall seeing the nurse when he left Central at 1000 hours last night. Still, that hardly explained how and why.

“But how did she know where you were going?” Julian asked. “Did you tell her?”

Garak’s mouth pulled into a thin line. “Do you really think I would trust that woman?” All right, that had been a stupid question. “She might have followed me, but I saw no indication.”

Which meant that possibility was unlikely. Garak wasn’t one to be easily followed, not with the way he perceived and depressed energy. So she must have used another way, something more fitting of her secretive and indirect manner. “Could she have put some sort of tracking device on you?”

Garak seemed to consider it for a moment before deciding, “It’s very possible. Perhaps on my clothing, or even my dust mask.”

Then they would just have to check. Julian returned to the bedroom to retrieve the clothes they had discarded last night, Garak joining him with his dust mask. God, they – well, _he –_ had made quite a mess of their tunics, flinging them across the room. But Garak’s garments were easy to pick out from Julian’s scrubs, and were soon spread out on the bed for Julian to examine.

Well, almost every garment. Garak was still lamenting the state of his tunic as Julian began his search. He was as meticulous as his rushing hands allowed, wanting to make sense of this all, but still trying to be thorough, examining every wrinkle, seam, and clasp for anything out of the ordinary.

But there was nothing that didn’t belong there, not even on the tunic that was finally, delicately spread out beside the others.

Julian let out a breath. “I don’t see anything.”

Garak seemed to have come to that conclusion as well, setting down his dust mask. “It might be too small to be seen by the naked eye,” he said. “We may be able to detect it with your tricorder if you scan for duridium. Most Cardassian tracking technology is composed of that alloy.”

 _If_ Telma had used Cardassian tracking technology…But it was worth a shot. He took a few minutes to configure the tricorder, increasing its sensitivity to that particular alloy, before beginning his scan.

But as he hovered the tricorder over the clothes and mask, his readings were having as much success as his hands-on approach. It wasn’t picking up anything. Honestly, he felt a little ridiculous standing there naked with a tricorder, goosebumps prickling his skin, but no, he had to remain focused.

 “No, there’s nothing,” Julian reported, eyes still on the readouts.

Garak started to reach for his tunic, and then it appeared. A little blip on the screen.

“Wait.”

Garak withdrew his hand. “Did you find it?”

Shit, no, it was gone, he had just had it. Maybe… “No, put your hand back…” he instructed, and yes, there it was again. “There…”

Julian lowered the tricorder and met Garak’s eyes.

“It’s not in your clothes. It’s embedded under your thumbnail.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there you have it. An attempt. This was my first time writing smut, so I apologize for my writing style sounding like a gorilla splashing around in a kiddie pool. Also, it was kinda awkward to write because it was a little like imagining Andy and Sid having sex...(I don't know why I planned another sex scene for the next chapter...a little over ambitious, I think. But we'll see how it goes.)
> 
> I felt pretty burnt out this week and was considering taking a break, but I'm worried if I put it down I might never pick it back up again. That's always happened in the past. I'm 23 and I've never finished writing a long fic before, which has always been my goal. So I think I'll keep going. If nothing else, I still enjoy writing it.
> 
> All references to Cardassian anatomy in this fic will be based off tinsnip's [Speculative Cardassian Reproductive Xenobiology](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1719479) since it's basically the standard. 
> 
> Tune in next week for a medical procedure, a discovery, and another E-rated scene because this has been pent up for too long and there's still so much to explore.


	27. Exploration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They discover what's been implanted under Garak's thumbnail, and Garak has a few more things to learn about Human sexuality. Julian is a willing instructor. Rated E.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last half of this chapter is rated E. It's not central to the plot so if it's not your cup of tea, you're welcome to skip it. If you do read it, you might want to make yourself a cup of tea because oh boy it's a long one!

The thumbnail came off without much hassle; a little blood, but Garak hardly felt a thing thanks to the low dose of anesthizine Julian administered. It was a quick and simple procedure, luckily, because Julian really didn’t want to linger in the exam room any longer than necessary, especially with Garak sitting on the biobed missing a thumbnail.

It would have been safer to do this at the apartment or in Julian’s office, but he didn’t have all the proper equipment in his medkit. Removing a fingernail and regenerating keratin was a little more involved than simple dermal regeneration. But at least Garak had managed to deactivate surveillance in this exam room with his handy personal comm.

They had done their best to deactivate the tracking device at the apartment, shortly after discovering it. Garak had used a tricorder to emit a very low level of delta radiation that he claimed would disable the chip, making it look like a system malfunction. There was no way to be certain it had worked, but as Julian examined the bloody newly exposed tissue on Garak’s thumb, he knew they would find out soon enough. He squinted, bringing the thumb in for closer inspection.

Ah, there it was – a small transparent chip, slightly smaller than Garak’s nail, colored with only one white mark that was easily mistaken for a leukonychia spot under the nail. Dr. Selvik had implanted it expertly. A curious piece of technology to examine at a later time, but right now Julian quickly sterilized it before slipping it into his pocket, turning back to his patient.

The protein regenerator worked quickly, and after a few minutes Garak had a brand new tracker-free thumbnail. Garak stayed abnormally quiet during the entire procedure, Julian humming absently just to fill the silence. As much as he wanted to discuss this further, it would just have to wait until they had more time and privacy.

Julian ran a finger over Garak’s nail before deciding he was satisfied, powering off the regenerator and sanitizing his workspace. All that was left to do was return the equipment to their proper places, then they could go on about their day like they hadn’t just made a shocking discovery that continued to tug at Julian’s mind.

 _Pssh._ The doors hissed opened behind him, but before he could even think to react he was being yanked down by his shirt, pulled into a fierce kiss.

Shit, what was Garak doing? Of all the possible times for that, this was _not_ one! But Garak refused to let him pull away mortified, two insistent hands forcing the kiss deeper, and footsteps were clacking behind them… _oh._ Yes, this was good, this would give him just enough time to dispose of the evidence.

Julian lunged forward to slide his tongue into Garak’s mouth, slipping the regenerator behind Garak’s back in the process. There, good, now to let it drag on for just a moment longer, make it look like he hadn’t heard anyone come in…

A throat cleared behind him and he pulled back with a loud, wet sound, straightening and turning to greet the intruders. Parmak and Telma stood near the door, the doctor a bit startled, the nurse as mildly amused as ever.

Julian was sure to exaggerate his embarrassment for proper effect, trying to stammer out an explanation. “Oh, Dr. Parmak, Nurse Telma, we were just – ”

But Parmak had already shaken off his surprise and was grinning slyly at the two of them. “Another common tradition among Human friends?”

All right, maybe some of the heat burning in his face was real embarrassment, but at least it would help him play the part better. He glanced back at Garak for any direction, but he was just smiling innocently, a hand tucked behind his back. He would just have to distract them until Garak managed to hide the regenerator somewhere out of sight.

“Yes, actually,” Julian replied, turning back to Parmak with a smile. “Quite common.”

Parmak raised an eye ridge. “Ah, I see…Then perhaps you could teach me, so I can properly interact with our Human visitors?”

Julian hesitated for just a moment, eyeing the Cardassian doctor carefully. He was smiling so simply, it was hard to tell if he was serious or just calling his bluff. But Telma was observing with an intrigued smile, and the longer he kept them distracted from Garak, the better.

“All right, sure,” Julian agreed with a shrug, taking a step closer to Parmak.

Parmak’s smile cracked into a laugh. “I’m only joking,” he said, raising a palm to keep Julian at a proper distance. “That would be highly inappropriate, I suspect. We Cardassians also engage in that practice, but in a much more intimate setting.”

Suddenly Garak was rising from the biobed to stand beside Julian, the regenerator nowhere in sight.

“Are you growing tired of me already, Sid?” Garak’s lips had curved into a frown – a pout, really – eyes wide and offended. “I _thought_ that after last night…”

“Andy, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Julian cut in, his glare a little more genuine as he folded his arms. Cover or not, he would rather not talk about _last night_ in front of Parmak or Telma. And really, after the way Garak had stressed the importance of secrecy…

Parmak was grinning peculiarly at the two of them, a little too amused. “It’s all right, Dr. El Fadil. It’s quite obvious what’s happened here,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m only surprised it took so long.”

Telma finally broke her watchful silence, snorting in disbelief. “ _I’m_ only surprised it wasn’t already happening.” She met Julian’s gaze with dancing eyes.

He hardly liked the twin smiles he was receiving, and damnit, Garak was also smiling, so smug and satisfied, an _I told you you were obvious,_ but really, it was just as much Garak’s fault as well, so he had nothing to celebrate. Still, Julian decided to ignore those comments, wanting to leave the exam room before his luck could run out any further.

“Well, I should be getting back to the isolation ward, so if there’s nothing else…”

“Actually,” Parmak said, stopping Julian’s halfhearted escape attempt. “I came looking for you to inquire on the status of your report. I hate to rush you, but I’ve got bureaucrats from the Science Ministry breathing down my neck.”

Julian returned to a casual stance, trying not to seem eager to leave. “I should be done soon. I’ll have it to you by the end of the week at the latest.”

If he ever managed to start it, that is. He had been putting off that report for much longer than he should have, but he had been hoping to include something more substantial than his meager bits of progress with symptom relief. But it looked like he would have to put something together, impressive or not.

As Parmak was nodding his approval, Telma took a step forward. “Well, I would leave you to it, but I’m afraid hospital policy forbids such amorous acts in the exam rooms.” She looked pointedly at Julian, teeth flashing in a smile.

“Of course, I apologize,” Garak was quick to reply, dipping his chin respectfully. “Sid can get a little carried away sometimes.”

Julian restrained himself to an irritated glare until Parmak and Telma left, but once the door hissed shut behind them, he had a few words ready for Garak.

“And you said _I_ was the one who couldn’t keep this secret.”

But Garak only shrugged, unconcerned with Julian’s scowl. “It was hardly a secret to either of them,” he replied, taking care to keep his voice low. “And I’d rather she think we were in here indulging our carnal urges than undermining her hard work.” He lifted his newly healed thumb, a playful grin pulling at his lips. “And really, you were the one to teach me this particular technique.”

“Oh, so it’s _my_ fault?”

“I wouldn’t fret over it, my dear. I know you mean well.”

 

* * *

 

Julian was still hooking up his dust mask by the door when he noticed Garak rummaging through the closet, emerging a few seconds later with his tailor kit. Somehow he didn’t think the Cardassian was gearing up for a relaxing evening of sewing.

Indeed, Garak was soon seated on the couch, pulling out that curious little lens and fitting it over his left eye. “Do you still have the tracking chip?” he asked, looking up at Julian.

Julian dug a hand into the pocket of his scrubs, drawing out the tiny device. “Right here,” he answered, heading toward the couch.

Garak eyed him with a frown, clearly unimpressed. “You kept such a sensitive piece of technology in your trousers all day?”

“I didn’t want to lose it,” Julian retorted, rolling his eyes. Really, things hadn’t changed between them, even with this intimate element added on. They really did argue like an “enjoined” couple, as Parmak had put it a few weeks ago.

He took a seat beside Garak on the couch, and all right, as silly as it was, it was a little exciting being able to sit as close as he wanted to him. He thrilled at the casual brush of their thighs as he handed Garak the chip, watching as the Cardassian went to work.

There was a little flashing light on the corner of Garak’s lens as he examined the strange chip, turning it around in his palm to inspect each side. After a few moments, he broke the silence.

“Ah…It seems my suspicions were correct.”

“What suspicions?”

Garak lowered his hand, lifting his gaze to meet Julian’s questioning eyes. “This isn’t a tracking chip, Julian. It’s a recording device.”

Julian blinked. That didn’t seem possible…it was miniscule compared to the one Telma had given him. He scrunched his brow as he squinted at the tiny chip, trying to see what Garak saw. “A recording device? I’ve never seen one so small.”

“See this silver point here?” Garak asked, pointing to white mark on the chip. And of course Julian didn’t, because there was hardly enough light in here to see the white mark properly against Garak’s palm, let alone its parts. “It’s a sensor that records and transmits audio-visual data to a remote receiver, probably capable of penetrating the protein in fingernails. It doesn’t appear to be working now, which means we likely did deactivate it this morning.” He closed his hand around the devious little device. “We can only hope that’s the case, but Telma might know we found it regardless.”

Julian frowned. Tracking someone’s location was one thing, but spying on them twenty-six hours a day? Audio _and_ visual? God, that was just _too_ far.

But as disturbing as it was, it shouldn’t have come as such a shock, not really. Telma had always been a mystery, a mystery he was getting damn sick of.

“Then why not just drop all this pretense and confront her?” he urged. “There’s quite a few things I’d like to ask her…”

Garak set the device carefully on the table before sitting back into the cushions, removing the lens from his eye. “Have you ever received a straight answer from that woman?” he asked, eyeing Julian skeptically. “She hasn’t been very cooperative in the past, and now we really can’t take that risk. If you start asking too many questions, she might think you’re not worth the hassle.”

“Not if they really need me on this mission.”

“But that’s the primary question, Julian. _Do_ they really need you?”

He opened his mouth to offer some retort, but it escaped him. Always so quick to argue, wasn’t he? Perhaps he should take a moment to consider what Garak was saying, especially when he kept revisiting this point. It was a question Julian had often asked himself, this _why had Starfleet requested him?_ Yes, he had ultimately volunteered in both instances, but Starfleet had still approved it a little too easily. There had always been parts of this assignment that didn’t add up, things about Telma that seemed a little off – her evasiveness, her casual, almost mocking attitude, her _laissez faire_ handling of his training…

He lifted his gaze from his lap, searching Garak’s eyes for an answer. “Do you really think there’s more to this assignment than Starfleet is telling me?”

“Yes.” Garak stretched an arm out on the back of the couch, looking quite comfortable for such a serious subject. “I haven’t found any clear evidence of what they might be hiding, but that is what my instincts are telling me.”

“When you first said that, I didn’t believe you…but now with this…” Julian sighed, picking up the device as if he just stared at it long enough, it would all make sense. “I’m not sure anymore. I understand Starfleet wanting to keep an eye on you, but I thought they trusted me with that task. Admiral Ross said as much. But this…this violation of privacy is a step too far.” He leaned back into Garak’s arm, still puzzling over the chip.

“I have always found it strange,” Garak said. “That they would need a doctor with little intelligence training to uncover this vital information – information Starfleet Command relies on to make consequential decisions – while they already have Telma and other agents on Prime, including at least one with access to the Council. Quite an important assignment for a probe’s first mission, wouldn’t you say? Not only do you lack experience, but your face is an obvious handicap. You can’t get too close to your primary targets without being recognized. And why they would risk involving me, even with this surveillance, is another question entirely.”

Well when he put it that way, it was hard not to be suspicious of this whole thing. But what could they do now without any evidence besides this device? Even if there was something going on below the surface, Starfleet probably had very good reasons behind their actions. As much as he hated these unanswered questions, he understood now that certain things were kept secret to protect something or someone important. Besides, Starfleet still needed Dukat’s war plans, that much was clear. And so did Garak if he was ever going to prevent his world from falling into chaos.

“Even if that is the case, we can still continue with _our_ plans – comb through Dukat’s relay logs, track down those war plans,” Julian pointed out, setting the device back on the table. “Telma hasn’t tried to interfere so far.”

It was strange how much darker Garak’s eyes looked now, holding Julian’s gaze. “I wouldn’t be too certain,” the Cardassian returned. “At the end of our first week here she mentioned Tekeny Ghemor in passing to me, and there was a peculiar look in her eyes. She knew I was trying to locate Ghemor’s coordinates. I thought she had planted surveillance in our luggage or somewhere in the apartment, but I couldn’t find anything. I never thought to check my own right hand.” He lifted his hand to examine his new thumbnail, an oddly impressed smile curling his lips, like he had some respect for the woman.

But as strange and unwarranted as it seemed to respect Telma’s tactics, there was something a little more interesting that caught Julian’s attention. “Is that why you insisted on sharing a sonic shower with me? To warn me about her and Parmak where you knew she couldn’t hear?”

“One of the reasons, yes.”

That coy smile was sending heat straight to Julian’s groin, but no, he needed to stay focused right now. He turned his mind to another question.

“Do you think she interfered with your plans?”

Luckily Garak had mercy on him, teasing grin fading into a more proper and intrigued smile. “I know nothing for certain, but isn’t it interesting how my black market contact was found dead the morning before he was going to sell me a holoprojector?”

Julian blinked. “Are you accusing her of murder?”

“Again, I know nothing for certain. But it is quite the coincidence…and now this business with the padd…”

A coincidence, that was all he could hope it was, because Telma was with Starfleet, and suspicious or not, she couldn’t possibly have…

Julian quickly pushed that thought out of his mind. But ah, the padd. He had given that some thought during the day, when he had spared a moment between his patients’ treatments.

“What if Telma left that padd for me to find because she wanted me to catch you operating behind my back?” he suggested, sitting up, their thighs pressing close. “If she has been watching you then she must know what nearly happened the last time I thought you might betray me. Maybe she wanted to break my trust in you.”

“I had the same thought. For whatever reason, she doesn’t seem to like me.” Garak turned his most innocent smile on Julian, earning a sympathetic pat on the knee. “But this roundabout way of trying to dispose of me is certainly interesting…”

“Maybe she’s not authorized to just send you away,” Julian suggested. Really, if Starfleet wanted Garak off this mission, they would have done something about it. This underhanded method was more suited for Cardassians, not at all Starfleet.

Garak took a moment to consider it, staring off toward the door. “That’s possible,” he agreed, looking back at Julian pointedly. “But this is all speculation for now, and until we find the answers, it’s best Telma not know of our suspicions. We’ll learn more through other means.”

“You mean hacking her console?”

Garak shook his head, a bit of frustration wrinkling his forehead. “I’ve already tried that. Her console at the hospital has nothing suspicion on it, and as for any personal computer, your guess is as good as mine. Her address in the hospital’s records is a vacant apartment.”

“You’ve really done your research.”

“I haven’t trusted her from the start.”

Julian slumped his shoulders, still trying to factor this into his previous calculations. But even with all these unknowns, at least one thing was clear – he couldn’t blindly trust Telma anymore. Perhaps he never should have.

“All right, I suppose you’re right,” he conceded with a sigh. “We’ll just have to keep her happy until we can figure out if there’s something more going on here.”

Garak frowned, eyes growing suddenly serious. “But in matters of our mission and what we may find, I don’t want her obtaining any more sensitive information.”

Julian studied him for a second, trying to understand his meaning. “You want me to flat out lie?” he asked, eyebrows scrunching together. “I don’t like her surveillance either, but I don’t think we should distance ourselves from her entirely. She seems to have access to information and people that even you don’t have.”

That hardly convinced Garak, his frown deepening. “Yes, but she hasn’t exactly been giving you invaluable direction. We have been making our own progress without her aid.”

Well, yes, she hadn’t been nearly as helpful as Julian would have liked, but she hadn’t been useless either. “She was some help after the Torr massacre,” he pointed out. “And she had one of her people send Rejal the recording of Dukat before that.”

“If she did indeed send it.”

Julian sighed, because damnit, Garak was right, he couldn’t be certain of that either. But even so, she could still be some use to them.

“But she still has more knowledge about the inner workings of the Council,” he argued. “Which we need until we’re able to access any surveillance or consoles in there.”

Garak didn’t respond right away, lowering his head to pinch the bridge of his nose. He seemed to be giving Julian’s point serious thought, which meant Julian might have just won the argument.

“I suppose we still can make use of her,” Garak conceded after a moment. He looked back up, holding Julian’s gaze intently. “But you must be careful what you tell her, Julian. I hope it’s clear you can’t trust her anymore, even if she is Starfleet.”

It was a rare victory, yes, but not a happy one. Julian let out a breath. “I know. I’ll tell her only enough to get the information we need from her, and to keep her thinking I trust her.”

Now that that was a little more settled, he could really use some _gelat_. But even as he left the couch and started for the replicator, his mind kept churning, reviewing everything this discovery meant, reanalyzing every interaction he had had with Telma, every odd look…

“Shit…” He stopped and turned around, shoulders taut.

Garak looked up from the couch, a curious tilt of the head.

God, his face as burning, how hadn’t he realized this earlier? “If she has been watching you this whole time, she probably saw us last night.”

But Garak, damn him, didn’t seem at all concerned, shrugging like he had already come to that realization. He probably had. Then that devilish grin spread across his face and Julian didn’t know whether to be annoyed or a little aroused.

“At least we put on quite a show,” Garak said.

All right, he was definitely annoyed. God, it made his skin crawl, thinking that their lovely evening, an evening he had anticipated for so long, an evening that had filled him with such warmth and joy, was being recorded under Garak’s thumbnail the entire time. What kind of view could you even get from a thumbnail cam? He’d rather not think about all the places that thumb had been on his body…

Fuck. That’s why Telma had been smiling so peculiarly that morning. She knew. She was _taunting_ them.

Garak’s smile managed to withstand Julian’s most irritated glower. “It does seem to go against the Federation principle of privacy rights, doesn’t it?”

Yes, and that was the most puzzling part of this whole thing, far more strange than Telma’s individual actions, a question that had been slowly emerging since they first discovered the implanted device. How could Starfleet have sanctioned this? It was incongruous with everything they stood for. And then there was the question of recording device itself, being Cardassian in design… There had to be some explanation…

“We can’t be certain this was authorized by Starfleet Intelligence. Telma might have contacted Dr. Selvik directly. She might be a rogue agent, for all we know.”

He turned back to the replicator on a quest for _gelat_ , but his argument hardly satisfied Garak.

“You really shouldn’t be so shocked, dear,” Garak said, a smile in his voice. “They are an intelligence agency, and I am an unknowable variable. It was quite common for the Order to keep tabs on their operatives in a similar manner.”

Julian heaved a sigh, stopping in front of the replicator. Again with these comparisons. “I’ve told you before, Garak, Starfleet doesn’t operate that way. Maybe I should contact Admiral Ross and ask him about this…”

“How do you propose doing that?” Garak no longer sounded like he was smiling – in fact, he seemed to be frowning rather loudly. “Only a symmetrically encrypted channel is secure against interception, but that would require the other party’s prior authorization to set one up. And we can be certain the Bureau is monitoring all Federation subspace communications on Cardassia. If we somehow make it past them, Telma may also be keeping an eye on our communications. I’m afraid we can only afford to contact Starfleet as last resort.”

Well, he couldn’t really argue with that, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be frustrated about it either. It looked like his questions would have to remain unanswered for the time being.

“All right, then I won’t ask him,” he relented, tapping his order into the replicator. “But I’m still hesitant to believe that Starfleet would – ”

But suddenly there were arms wrapping tightly around his waist, and – _oh_ – an erection pressing up against his arse.

“Is now really the time?” he laughed, even as his body started to take interest. His _gelat_ had materialized in the replicator, sitting untouched as he found his attention diverted.

Garak’s voice was a low murmur against his ear, that evil seductive trick he had already tried a few times on him. God, it was like he knew this excited Julian, being subdued from behind by a strong embrace, an unseeable captor.

“You must be aware, Julian, that this discussion we’re having is basically foreplay.”

Julian tried a little squirm, just to see if Garak would relent, but oh, that only made him tighten his grasp further. “No, I thought we were having a serious conversation about our assignment.”

“That doesn’t make it any less arousing,” Garak purred, nuzzling his nose into Julian’s hair. He paused for a slow inhale, and god, it seemed like he was smelling his hair, taking in his scent. “That face you make when you begrudgingly concede, the way your body tenses when you stubbornly push back…only now am I able to fully appreciate this.”

Soft lips were trailing down the back of his neck, sending shivers down his spine, a spark of arousal stirring in his trousers. And oh, it felt so nice to lean back into Garak’s grasp, shamelessly smitten, nothing left to hide. Nothing that mattered at this moment, anyway.

“I _have_ been thinking about you all day…” he admitted, reaching around to grasp Garak’s hip, bring that body just a little bit closer.

“Have you now?” Garak chuckled against his neck.

“Mmhm. It was a little difficult to focus on my work with such lovely images in my head…”

Ah, but he thought he would have to wait much longer before they reprised their roles from last night, thought Garak would insist they spend a few hours in front of the console first. And really, those relay logs wouldn’t sort themselves, they were pretty important to this mission, but oh, so was the way that stiff cock slid against the cleft of his arse, a small taste of things to come.

And it would be so nice to put these questions aside for a few blissful moments, to get lost in each other’s pleasure again…

Garak’s mouth was back at his ear, just a quick little nibble before murmuring, “It’s really _quite_ a shame about the hospital’s policy.”

Laughing, Julian spun around in Garak’s arms, placing two firm hands on his lover’s hips. He gave him his best stern doctor look, the one he reserved for his most fussy patients. “Garak, you know I wouldn’t actually agree to that. It’s hardly appropriate behavior for a medical professional –”

But his words were cut short by a rough shove, and suddenly he was pinned against the wall beside the replicator, a hungry mouth swallowing his gasp, kissing him silent. Julian tried to push back, take command of the situation, but the hands on his shoulders kept him snugly in place as his mouth was thoroughly explored.

After a long minute Garak seemed to be satisfied, pulling back from the kiss before Julian could try to retaliate.

Julian blinked, trying to regain the breath that had been stolen. “What was that for?”

Oh, what a fascinating contradiction Garak’s face made: sweet innocent smile, dark leering eyes.

“Oh, nothing, dear, just something I’ve always wanted to do,” he dismissed, a squeeze to Julian’s shoulders. Then those eyes started raking down Julian’s body, and his smile could no longer maintain its innocent façade. “Now I believe we have some unfinished business to attend to...And this time, without an audience.”

Those last words sent a shiver down Julian’s spine, because he really didn’t want to think about that gross violation anymore right now, but what was this spark of heat shooting down to his groin? God, if he wasn’t ridiculously aroused before, it was impossible to deny now, erection straining heavy in his trousers.

Their mouths collided urgently, Julian still trapped between the wall and his lover’s body, pliant and yielding. It was a little exhilarating, this rough treatment – the wall hard against his back, the grip of Garak’s hands on the front of his shirt, the bruising kisses, the bite of teeth on his bottom lip. It had been a long time since a lover made him feel this overpowered, his unfair advantage stripped from him. Perhaps Garak’s strength was finally a match for his own, someone to spar with on an even playing field, actually give him a challenge.

And yes, he really seemed to like that, desire throbbing deep and low, so he pushed back, forcing his tongue past Garak’s to invade that warm mouth. He pulled Garak flush against him, hands groping back to squeeze Garak’s arse, but their bodies were _still_ not close enough, too much fabric in the way, tension building and building with no relief, so he hooked one leg around Garak’s hips and arched against him, desperately rutting their erections together.

The day’s pent-up desire had crashed down upon him and really, he thought that after last night this hunger would be slightly alleviated, but no, it had somehow only increased, now that he had had a taste. There was so much left to explore, he could hardly contain himself now, letting out a low, needy moan.

But then Garak pulled back, absolutely _delighted_ at Julian’s sudden disappointment. “Pace yourself, dear,” he said, but his breaths were suspiciously labored for someone so calm. “This isn’t something to scarf down. It’s something to savor.”

And to demonstrate, he cupped Julian’s face and sealed their lips back together, slow and impossibly tender, thumb caressing Julian’s cheek.

Julian sighed into the affectionate press and closed his eyes, his leg slipping back down, heartbeat slowing to a more moderate tempo. All right, this was very good too, and besides, they had already done plenty of devouring yesterday. It would be nice to take things slow, now that they had a little more time.

Garak pulled away with a grin, enjoying the soft blissed-out expression on Julian’s face.

“I’m not normally like this, you know,” Julian insisted, blinking out of the trance. The last thing he wanted was for Garak to think he was some needy youth rutting against anything that moved. He had been a smooth seducer once upon a time, and it really wasn’t fair how Garak had dismantled him like this.

Garak eyed him dubiously as he took a step back, releasing Julian’s shoulders. “With the way you inhale your meals, you’ll forgive me if I’m skeptical.” And with that Garak started to walk away, heading across the living room toward the bedroom. Julian was quick to pursue.

“I’ll have you know I’ve been told many times what an attentive lover I am,” he shot back, following Garak into the bedroom.

Garak sunk down onto the bed with a raised eyebrow, unimpressed. “I’m hardly interested in the opinions of your own _prUt._ ”

_“Garak!”_

“Only joking, dear.”

Julian huffed, not sure he should forgive him. “Keep joking like that and I might take my _prUt_ and leave,” he threatened, very serious as he pulled his shirt up over his head.

Garak’s eyes gleamed as they followed the movements of Julian’s body, the slide of Julian’s trousers down his long legs. His briefs were soon to follow.

“Somehow I don’t believe you’re serious,” Garak drawled. His pupils widened, eyes almost shark-like in their interest, as Julian stood flushed and naked before him, stepping out of the trousers that pooled around his ankles. But Garak didn’t spend too long ogling this time, getting to work on his own garments. Luckily the standard hospital scrubs were designed with only a modest amount of fastenings, far less elaborate than last night’s ensemble. His tunic was soon off his body, folded neatly by gentle hands.

Hands that really should have been on Julian’s body by now.

Julian crawled onto the bed, sitting on his heels as he watched Garak’s pseudo-strip tease, one hand idly teasing his erection. He hadn’t been planning to prolong this argument, but with the pace Garak was moving at…

“You know, Garak, if anyone here is a virgin, it’s you, at least before last night.”

It didn’t have the desired effect. If anything, Garak was only moving slower, leaning over the nightstand to set down his tunic, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles from the top. But then he was turning back to Julian, eyes dark with lust, starting on the fastenings of his trousers.

“I assure you, Julian, I’ve had many years of experience before last night,” he replied, voice deep and a little husky.

“As a Cardassian, yes, but not as a Human. I was the first person you fucked with this.” He smiled proudly, rubbing Garak’s erection through the fabric of his trousers. God, these needed to come _off._

Garak let out a little laugh, brushing away the fingers that tugged at his waistband. “Patience, my darling.” But even as he scolded he leaned back, an invitation for those eager hands to do the rest.

And Julian would gladly oblige, tugging Garak’s trousers down and off his legs in one smooth motion, setting them aside. He then moved to the briefs, sliding them down Garak’s hips when he noticed how soft and silky they felt to touch. “These are nice. Did you design them?”

Garak seemed pleased by the compliment. “Yes, both out of pleasure and necessity. They’re loosely based off the Starfleet-issued design, only with a few _much-needed_ modifications.”

“Cardassians don’t wear underwear?” Julian asked, slipping the briefs off past Garak’s feet. Ah, perhaps he would be thoughtful this time, not just toss them on the ground with his clothes. He didn’t take the time to fold them, but he did lay them out decently on the nightstand.

“There’s really no need,” Garak answered with a shrug.

Julian turned back to his naked lover, admiring the view – really, how had he ever called him average? – ready to pick up where they left off this morning, but oh…He was forgetting something, wasn’t he? He had gotten away with it yesterday, but he doubted that would be the case now.

“Uh, just a minute, I should really clean myself first,” he said, stepping off the bed. It was still a little weird to say that, even after everything they had already done. He quickly fetched the sanitary wipes from the top drawer.

“Ah, may I have one?” Garak asked before he could leave the room.

“Oh, of course.”

And as Julian headed for the bathroom, he couldn’t help but wonder if that meant Garak wanted to be a little more adventurous this time.

Once he had finished cleaning himself, even taking a moment to examine himself in the mirror, just to make sure everything looked healthy back there, he returned to the bedroom to find Garak where he left him, reclining with legs stretched out in front of him. And god, what a tempting sight – yes, still a bit strange, but he was already getting used to this, and Garak really was gorgeous, and all Julian wanted right now was to devour him.

But no, that would just give Garak more points of criticism, if he acted like a sex-starved animal again. He would behave himself, yes, even as he crawled back to his lover, sitting cross-legged beside him. He just needed to distract his passionate instincts…perhaps by indulging his curiosity in a different area.

He leaned forward and took Garak’s cock between his hands, trying very hard to examine it with a doctor’s detached, professional touch. He inspected it carefully, drawing a finger down the smooth, reddened skin from glans to testes.

He had hardly been this clearheaded last night, but now as he peered closely at the organ, it was really quite amazing how Human it looked. Garak’s genitals had gone through quite an invasive procedure, yes, and the recovery process had probably been much longer than he had let on.

“This is remarkable.”

Garak inhaled softly, shifting a little under Julian’s attentions. “Oh? Is this not average for a Human _prUt_?”

“No, I mean Dr. Selvik did a remarkable job…I can’t find a single flaw.” He traced down the little ridge on the underside of Garak’s penis, resisting the urge to wrap a hand around it and stroke. His own cock was still throbbing for attention, but he ignored it for the moment to focus on his examination.

“Coming from you, that’s high praise indeed.”

He moved back up to the tip now, examining the foreskin. “And so thorough…this all looks completely Human.” The little fold of skin retracted under his touch, exposing the moistened red tip.

Garak let out a low hum. “Well it would need to be in case I’m required to seduce someone for this assignment.”

Julian curled his fingers around the shaft, just a little squeeze as he meet Garak’s eyes. “There will be no seducing of anyone besides me.”

“Possessive, are we?” A wicked half-smile tugged at Garak’s lips.

But Julian had already returned to his examination, running fingers up into Garak’s pubic hair. Mmhm, curly and wiry, just like a Human’s. Probably not the easiest thing to adjust to either, this “fur” that covered parts of his body.

“I’m beginning to think this was all a ruse to trick me into an exam,” Garak tutted.

“Hm?” Julian let Garak’s cock fall out his grasp, returning his focus to his lover’s face. “No, it’s just fascinating…Of course I don’t know what is used to look like.”

His research thus far had focused mainly on Cardassian lungs, and the upper body more broadly, but he really hadn’t done much study below the abdomen. He had some vague ideas of how it worked from anatomical diagrams he had seen, like that the _prUt_ retracted when not in use, but other than that, it was still a mystery.

“You said the Cardassian penis is self-lubricating?”

“Not exactly.” Garak sat up a little, bringing a hand down to his groin. “My _ajan_ , the cloacal opening here – ” He ran his finger down a line, starting slightly below his belly button, down alongside his penis to his balls – “secretes the lubricant. My _prUt_ is simply covered in it when it blooms, or everts. Normally it’s kept safely inside.”

Julian returned a hand to Garak’s cock, very professional, not at all teasing as he pulled the foreskin back. “And what does it look like when it’s everted?”

Garak watched Julian’s ministrations with hooded eyes, looking quite comfortable propped up against the pillows. “The shape is different, for one. The tip is much narrower, and the base…” He folded a hand over Julian’s, sliding it down the shaft. “…is wider, particularly at the _irllun_.”

Garak drew his hand back, allowing Julian to circle his finger around the base, trying to imagine what that might look and feel like. “ _Irllun?_ ”

“Microscaling circling the base. It’s quite sensitive,” Garak explained, matter-of-factly. From his steady tone, it was clear he didn’t find Julian’s current ministrations as exciting.

“Oh, I see.” Julian eyed Garak’s cock thoughtfully. “Well on a Human penis, the head is the most sensitive spot – or the glans, if you want to use proper terminology.” He slid his hand back up, enjoying that little hitch of breath, because _really_ , this was hardly sexual. He hadn’t even lubed up yet. “If you rub it like this, and pull back this bit of skin – the foreskin – to expose the glans, it feels really nice.”

Garak let out a slow breath, dark eyes gleaming beneath his lashes. “I suppose there are benefits to this arrangement, as vulnerable as it may be,” he mused. “Easier access, for instance. It’s a bit more involved to get to this stage with a Cardassian _prUt,_ but these Human _prUts_ seem to stiffen at the slightest…ah… provocation.”

Julian let out a laugh. “Looks like another area where Cardassians have traded freedom for security.” He caught that little bead of pre-ejaculate on his finger, spreading it down the length in a long stroke. “Tell me, Elim, how else does one please a Cardassian?”

Garak grinned. “There are of course the neck and shoulder ridges, and the _chuva_ , here –” pointing at his belly button – “feels very nice to stimulate. And the inside of the _ajan_ is also quite sensitive. A finger or two in there – here, below the _prUt_ – can be _very_ pleasant. A little like your hole, but better lubricated and not as tight.”

Hmm…now that offered some possibilities...“Can a penis fit inside?”

“It’s easier when the _prUt_ hasn’t bloomed, but yes.”

“Oh…I wouldn’t have expected that.” He raked his eyes over Garak’s current genitals, trying to imagine all that Garak had described, what delicious fun they could have when Garak was returned to normal.

Garak quirked an eyebrow. “Does that appeal to you?”

“God, yes. You’ll have to show me some day.”

“Perhaps I will.” Garak’s gaze trailed languorously down Julian’s body, almost a caress, until it settled on his cock. “But I’m afraid I still don’t know everything about this new set of equipment…and I recall you promising to enlighten me.”

“Oh?” Julian raised an eyebrow, an intrigued little smile on his lips. “You mean you’ve never explored your new equipment?” He certainly would have if he had been given a new set of genitals. It would be fascinating, so many new sensations…he was almost envious, really.

“No, my dear, I have not ‘explored’ myself as you so creatively put it,” Garak huffed, as if he wasn’t enjoying what Julian’s thumb was currently doing. “In case you’ve forgotten, I happen to share an apartment with an incorrigible busybody.”

Ah. Well that put last night into more context. Garak _had_ basically been a virgin in this new body, even if didn’t care to admit it. Julian’s cock, a little flaccid now, gave a twitch of interest. The least he could do was share his expertise.

Chuckling, Julian released Garak’s cock and leaned back, reaching for the vial of scale oil on the nightstand. “Well here, I’ll demonstrate on myself,” he offered, squirting a little lubricant on his palm. “And you can follow along with your own.” Closing the bottle, he leaned back on one hand as his other got to work, smooth, wet strokes up and down his shaft, coaxing himself back into full arousal.

And ooh, it was nice to finally indulge after paying all this attention to Garak’s cock. He had been good and restrained, see? Very patient. Now perhaps he could reward himself just a little…

“Quite the exhibitionist, I see.”

“Shut up and touch yourself.”

But Garak’s hands remained where they were, his cock quite neglected. “I’m afraid Cardassians aren’t quite as wanton, my dear. It’s considered rude and a bit juvenile to pleasure oneself in the company of others.”

God, Cardassians and their strange etiquette. But all Julian did was roll his eyes, not really caring to argue at the moment, not when there was so much more fun to be had. “Fine, then here.” He released his own cock a little reluctantly, wrapping his wet hand around Garak’s erection. “We’ll switch.”

It wasn’t too bad of an arrangement after all, because once Garak had coated his palm in scale oil and wrapped it around Julian’s cock, it was quite good, pleasure flowing leisurely through him. It was nice to enjoy each other like this, blissful but not yet desperate.

“Pull back the skin like this?”

Julian let out a little gasp as Garak thumbed his exposed glans, circling it just right. “Yes, like that,” he sighed, trying to keep a clear head, but oh, that felt really lovely.

He luxuriated in the sensation for a moment, giving Garak’s cock the same treatment, before he remembered what he was supposed to be doing here.

“Now besides stimulating the head, another nice thing to do is run your hand down and up along the whole length, twisting the wrist, and just thumb the head like this, just a little tease.” He demonstrated quite expertly, coaxing a soft little sound from Garak’s lips.

“Ah…” Garak sighed, his breaths a little heavier. “That is nice.”

It was indeed as Garak began to try out that technique, movements a little more refined than last night as he fell into a steady rhythm. Julian adjusted his strokes to match, and soon they were both panting softly together, their pleasure no longer so leisurely.

Julian placed his free hand on Garak’s face and pulled him into a kiss, adding another lovely dimension to the experience. He had always enjoyed kissing during lovemaking, though it was not always a favorite practice among his previous partners. But by the way Garak was returning his open-mouthed kisses, he seemed to be enjoying himself just as much.

Maybe they were enjoying themselves a little _too_ much, actually, quickening their pace, breathing heavily into each other’s mouths. A sweet pressure was beginning to tighten in his balls, and oh, a long moan was escaping his lips…

Garak pulled back with a chuckle, releasing Julian’s erection. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself, dear. I believe there’s still much I have to learn.”

Damnit, he had almost done it again. Perhaps he wasn’t as controlled as he would like. Sighing, he stopped pleasuring Garak and squeezed the base of his own cock.

“Right, right,” he said, still a little breathless. “Damn, you’re a fast learner.” He brushed the hair back from his forehead, willing his mind to focus, but shit, that was a really good hand job, maybe one of the best he had received.

Shaking his head, he smiled back at Garak. “Well, this is all well and good, but there are a few more ways to pleasure a Human. Would you like me to demonstrate?”

“By all means.” Garak seemed only mildly interested as he returned Julian’s grin, but his eyes betrayed him, practically glowing with lust.

“Then lie back and spread your legs like…” Kneeling in front of him, Julian grabbed Garak’s calves and hitched his legs up, then spread his knees wider until he was satisfied. “Like this, perfect.”

Garak peered down at him between obscenely spread legs. “You’re a bit bossier in bed than I expected,” he tutted, propping himself up on an elbow for a better view.

“You wouldn’t be this hard if you didn’t like it.” Julian smirked as he finished applying fresh oil to his hand, giving his lover’s cock a teasing tug.

A lovely hiss escaped Garak’s lips.

Julian chuckled mischievously. “As much as you like that, let’s move a little lower, shall we?” His hand started descending as he continued his lesson. “You usually have your testes tucked up into your abdominal cavity, right? A suitable arrangement as far as safety goes, but you’re sacrificing some pleasure. We can get quite a bit of pleasure from these, if handled correctly. It’s important to be gentle but…” He cupped Garak’s sac lightly and palpitated a few times. “How’s that?”

Ooh, that was a pretty sight, Garak all flushed with his chest heaving, biting back a moan. “I think you’re just fishing for compliments,” the Cardassian retorted.

Julian smiled innocently, tilting his head. “You mean you don’t like it when I do this?” He gave the pouch another gentle squeeze, tugging downward.

Another moan, and Garak finally gave in. “Fine, you have very clever hands.”

“How kind of you to say!”

Julian was practically beaming now, giddy with excitement from this new dynamic, stroking his own cock idly as he continued to fondle Garak’s balls. He managed to coax a few more sounds from his stubborn lover before moving on to the next lesson.

“Now this skin right here, just before the anus, is also very sensitive,” he explained, giving Garak’s perineum an experimental rub. Garak’s body jerked slightly at that, his eyes widening, so Julian did it again, this time firmer. Yes, Garak _definitely_ liked that.

“Ah…perhaps Human stimulation is more intricate than I gave it credit for.”

It was so lovely to watch the flickers of pleasure and awe on Garak’s face, no mask to conceal his desires, his body experiencing all new sources of delight. And Julian was the one to inflict this pleasure on him, teach him every sensitive spot on his new body. He was slowly coming undone under Julian’s teasing ministrations, his composure unraveling, his words no longer effortlessly eloquent. God, it was invigorating, sending lovely sensations straight to Julian’s cock as he continued massaging Garak’s perineum, occasionally giving his balls another gentle tug.

After a few moments he let his fingers drift lower, almost to the anus, leaving a slick trail of oil. He dragged his gaze back up to Garak’s eyes, knowing full well what his lover was anticipating, but then on impulse changed course.

“Oh, dear, I’ve neglected your poor cock…Perhaps this will help.”

And then he was down between Garak’s legs, taking that flushed, glistening cock partially into his mouth, an experimental taste. Hmm, scale oil had an odd, bitter flavor, but not too terrible. Certainly worth that expression on Garak’s face.

Oh, but then Garak’s hips were snapping forward, cock surging deep into Julian’s mouth, and he was gagging, eyes watering as he pulled back, leaving only the tip between his lips. He gave Garak a proper scolding stare, holding the offending hips firmly in place, and he could tell by Garak’s eyes what sort of debauched picture that made.

Garak’s hips behaved themselves after that, so Julian rewarded him by taking more of his cock into his mouth, warm and pulsing, sucking up the length as Garak practically crooned in bliss. God, he had never heard _that_ particular sound before. He had one firm hand on the base of Garak’s cock as he worked himself with the other, easing some of that lovely madness that Garak was stirring.

Another moment and he released Garak’s glans with a wet _pop_.

“Do Cardassians enjoy fellatio, Elim?” he asked sweetly, swollen lips still hovering near the tip. But as Garak tried to reply, he took the cock back into his mouth, tongue swirling around the head, turning Garak’s answer into a string of gasps and groans.

When Garak finally found his tongue again, he made another attempt to answer. “I…I can’t speak for – _oh_ – all Cardassians, dear.”

Julian let Garak’s cock slip from his lips again, grinning wickedly up at him. “Fine, then does Elim Garak like his _prUt_ sucked?”

“Ah,” Garak panted, reaching down to stroke Julian’s hair, trailing down his neck to the bite mark on his shoulder. “He does indeed, Julian. It’s not too different from this, only you would need to take it all the way in to stimulate the _irllun_ …”

Julian accepted the challenge, relaxing his throat muscles to take Garak in deeper. Not all the way, but close.

Garak let out a gasp, struggling to continue. “Oh…and then there are some lovers who like to move their attentions lower, to the _ajan._ ”

Julian gave the glans one final suck before letting it fall out of his mouth, planting a farewell kiss on the wet tip. Garak seemed a little too close now, better not rile him further just yet…And oh, that idea added quite another dimension to Cardassian lovemaking, something else to look forward to.

But that brought another lovely thought to mind. “Oh…I’m not sure Human males have anything exactly like that, but…” He started following that little ridge down to Garak’s balls, planting kisses as he went until…

“But it’s only the bolder lovers who would be so brazen as to stick his tongue inside – _slet,_ Doctor! What are you doing?”

Julian gave Garak’s hole one long lick before pulling back just a bit, holding his buttocks apart as he watched the puckered opening flutter. God, this was a lot more interesting than he had expected.

“Not ‘doctor,’” he murmured, going in for another taste. “I’m Julian.”

“Not when you’re doing that,” Garak ground out between his teeth.

He pulled back again, peering up at Garak from between his legs. “You would rather your doctor be doing this?” he asked, licking his lips for added effect.

_“Julian…”_

“That’s better.” Smirking, Julian patted Garak’s arse and sat up to grab a pillow, placing it under Garak’s hips to give him easier access. Yes, that was better, he decided as he spread those arse cheeks back open, revealing the twitching little hole. It looked much pinker now. He slid his tongue along the pucker, up and back, swirling around, before feeling a little bolder, dipping down past the outer ring of muscle.

He felt Garak’s legs quivering around him, heard strangled moans and soft gasps, laughing as he slid his tongue back out. “It feels nice, doesn’t it? I quite enjoyed it during my days at the Academy.” His tongue found its way back in, urging those tight little muscles to relax, probing a little bit deeper.

“I’d rather not hear about your days at the Academy while you’re doing –” a sharp inhale – “ _that_.”

Oh, he so very much wanted to keep exploring with his tongue, but that warranted a reply. He pulled back again. “Now who’s possessive?” He planted a quick kiss to the quivering pucker. “I think you like it.” Another kiss. “And I think you like sticking your tongue inside other people’s _ajans._ I think you were _quite_ the sexual deviant in your youth.”

His hand was now on Garak’s cock, pumping it steadily as he went back to tasting his arse – a foreign musky taste, just a bitter hint of sanitary wipe. Perhaps he was being a _bit_ cruel, but this was only fair after the way Garak had unraveled him yesterday.

“You’re…” Garak gasped, struggling to speak. Poor dear. “You’re projecting your own debauchery onto me…ahhh…”

“Says the man with a tongue up his arse.” He promptly plunged back in.

God, Garak was practically mewling now, a shivering mess. He _really_ liked to be tongue-fucked, it seemed. Julian would have to remember that, indulge him on a weekly basis maybe.

“Which you put there,” Garak retorted, still trying desperately to continue this argument. “Julian, _please…_ ” One hand was fisting the sheets, his hips shuddering into Julian’s hand. “I should be preparing yours.”

But Julian wasn’t feeling merciful just yet, pushing Garak’s thighs back closer to his body, lifting Garak’s arse higher in the air. “Oh, are you ready for that already?” he asked, smiling wickedly. “And you accused _me_ of rushing through my meal...Well I’m savoring it now, Elim.” He lowered his mouth, eyes still on Garak as he dragged a long lick down the cleft.

Garak tried very hard to sound stern, it was really quite adorable, but there was a strong undertone of desperation in his voice. “ _Julian_.”

“All right, all right,” Julian laughed. He had tormented Garak for long enough, and if he dragged this out any further, he could be certain Garak would have his revenge…not that that didn’t sound very enticing in its own right. But he had other plans tonight.

He found the vial of oil and climbed on top of Garak without preamble, straddling his hips.

“But we’re doing this my way,” he insisted, biting back a sigh as he felt Garak’s erection brush against the cleft of his arse. His urges were quickly threatening to overpower him, not so easily tamed after watching Garak slowly fall apart under his hands and mouth. He needed more of that, to hear Garak actually cry and _shout_ in bliss as Julian enveloped him.

He wasted no time slicking up a finger, reaching back behind himself and sliding it into his hole. It pushed in easier than Garak’s finger had, a little more slender and far better lubricated.

He looked back and found Garak’s eyes on him, intrigued but no longer mad with desire, his composure slipping back into place. But no matter, Julian would strip it away soon enough.

“Well, who am I to deny such a lovely creature?” Garak chuckled, lifting his head to get a better view. “But allow me…”

And soon another slick finger slipped in alongside Julian’s, his hole stretching and pulsing around the intrusion. It slid right beside his own, probing and pushing, drawing a little sigh from Julian as he grasped his own cock, delicious sensations flooding his body.

Oh, but Garak’s other hand was also busy, slicking up his own erection with scale oil, long twisting strokes that were growing a little urgent. No, he wasn’t just preparing his cock for Julian’s arse, there was too much delight on his face, too much skill in those fingers as he worked, applying extra attention to his tip. God…Garak was masturbating.

So Julian watched him, rapt and a little triumphant, grinning ear to ear. “Look at you, Elim, pleasuring yourself in front of someone else. How positively wanton – _fuck!_ ”

A shudder tore through his body as Garak struck his prostate, his own finger losing its rhythm. Oh, right there, yes, if he just kept massaging it like that…

“You were saying, dear?”

God, he couldn’t seem to get the words out as Garak continued his very deliberate attentions, rubbing, milking, _attacking_ his prostate, rendering his moans unintelligible as he tried to reply. It was _infuriating_. Garak was taunting him, chuckling darkly at the wanton mess he had quickly become, quivering and bucking back against that delightful finger, his own useless one slipping out.

But everything was building too quickly now, the pleasure was too sharp, he could hardly stand it much longer, and this was _not_ how he wanted things to end. So he had to beg for mercy, panting and gasping as he forced out an apology.

“All right, I’m sorry, just _stop_ that. I need you inside me first.”

And abruptly Garak ended his torment, pulling out his finger with a wicked grin.

That was all the invitation Julian needed to proceed. But his movements were a little less certain now, forgetting exactly how to go about impaling oneself on a cock. He lifted his arse up and hovered over his target, holding it in place with a hand as he let the slick tip slide around his hole, feeling for the right angle. Ah, there, he had lined it up perfectly now, just… _ohh…_ There it was.

It was a gradual descent, slow and careful and a little tentative as he sunk down onto Garak’s cock, his anus stretching to accommodate it. But god, it was taking too long this way, perhaps it was better to just take the rest in at once and –

He sucked in a breath as he slid the rest of the way down, buttocks resting against Garak’s thighs, a cock buried inside him. His hole felt obscenely stretched, still not very used to its new inhabitant, even after last night’s enthusiastic introduction. God, it burned, but the discomfort wouldn’t last long, soon pleasure would follow and this little adjustment would be well worth it. It was already starting to feel better as he pumped his cock, one steadying hand on Garak’s chest as he leaned back against his hitched-up legs for support, but he needed to focus on something, some distraction from the intense pleasure-pain.

Shit, he was already breathing hard like he had just finished a racquetball match, the room blazing around them as they sat staring at each other. Yes, Garak was adoring this, eyes hooded with a hand curled in the sheets, trying so very hard to be good and keep his hips still. A little warmth spread through Julian’s chest at the sight, his considerate lover.

They could both use a little distraction. He grazed his fingers over Garak’s sweat-slick chest, idly brushing the coarse light hair before circling a nipple, flicking it lightly. “Here’s another good place to stimulate a Human,” he explained, struggling to breathe properly as his hole twitched around the pulsing length. “Does it feel good for Cardassians, even with the scales that cover yours?”

“Oh…it does, to some extent, but not like this.”

And Garak did seem to be enjoying it, shivering a little as Julian released his cock to stimulate both nipples at once. He stroked down Julian’s chest to return the favor, taking one dusky nipple between his fingers and tweaking it.

It was lovely, these shivery little sensations, but the stiff length inside him was growing increasingly hard to ignore, and then Garak was moving his hand back down to Julian’s cock, still a little slick with oil as he began a steady up and down.

Holding his breath, Julian slowly started to lift himself up, letting the cock slide halfway out before slamming back down. They moaned in harmony, and yes, he was definitely ready for more of that, ready to push through the mild burn for more bursts of pleasure.

So he pulled up again and slid back down, faster this time, and again, up almost to the tip, back down to the base, until he had found a nice rhythm. But it was a little too much trying to concentrate on Garak’s nipples as well, so he rested his hands on Garak’s hips for support, whimpering as Garak thrust up into his prostate.

“Ooh…” he moaned, bouncing shamelessly on his lover’s cock. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to narrate this, Elim. Feels too good.”

Garak thrust up with a grunt, right into the sweet spot. “That’s quite all right, dear…Mm… Sometimes experience is the best teacher.”

Their rhythm danced on, Garak thrusting up lightly to meet Julian’s vigorous bouncing, no longer satisfied with experimental little slides. Garak had Julian’s cock trapped in his fist, hand pumping as Julian tried to trust into it, his other hand squeezing Julian’s arse.

Garak’s forehead was a little scrunched, face skewed in concentration, but his eyes were nearly black with lust, drinking in the sight of his lover on top of him. And fuck, Julian loved it like this, this incredible surge of power – setting the pace, taking his own pleasure, seeing Garak a little submissive beneath him. It sent a fierce, greedy fire through his body, heat pooling deep in his core down to his tingling feet. Perhaps he enjoyed both extremes, the powerful and the powerless, depending on the situation. Whatever it was, it was eliciting the most shameless little moans and whines from him.

He lunged down to capture Garak’s lips, needing to taste him again, parted for far too long. But oh, as lovely as it felt to kiss him through all of this, it was disrupting their rhythm, contorting his body in a way that made things difficult, so he pulled back after a few clumsy kisses, sitting up to continue bouncing.

Oh, but how foolish to have considered Garak submissive just because he was lying beneath him – he still held his cock, pumping up and down the slick shaft, thumbing the head, and his hips were thrusting up – _really_ thrusting – into him. Damn, he had really gotten the hang of that.

“Ooh…Yes, more of that.”

“You Humans enjoy this blunt motion, I – _ah_ – I take it.”

But Julian was too far gone to reply, gasping out his pleasure, riding along a wave of delight. Their flesh slapped together in the quiet room, accompanied by desperate moans and shaky cries, far too loud if they had any consideration for their neighbors. But they were too caught up in each other, this dizzying one-two thrust-and-slide, Garak arching up with every snap forward, Julian gripping his hips hard enough to bruise the defenseless skin, two sweaty bodies in an erotic dance, but it was Julian who broke first, plaintive whimpers turning to frantic sobs as his climax washed over him.

Garak wasn’t far behind, wringing every drop of release from Julian before succumbing to the pleasure of the spasming tightness around him, thrusting erratically into that slick warmth, seed shooting up inside him.

And for a moment everything was thrumming and hazy, their voices only distant echoes to Julian’s ears. But slowly he returned to his overheated, sweat-covered body, senses reemerging as blind ecstasy faded, moans and expletives dying away until they were left panting and gazing at one another, twin expressions of awed delight. A flood of warmth swelled inside Julian’s chest, and he couldn’t look away.

It was incredible, this connection of their eyes, this moment of intimacy, but then Julian’s thighs began to tremble, remembering how to feel dull, aching pain, and they couldn’t stay like this forever. Letting out a breath, he carefully lifted himself off of Garak, clenching his arse to keep the mess from dripping down. But it wasn’t working so well, a wet rivulet already trickling down his thigh, and there was another mess entirely coating his hand and belly. Ah well. He would deal with that later.

Julian sank down into the sheets beside Garak, giving him a long and proper kiss.

“Mm…that was wonderful.”

“You are quite the teacher, my dear.”

Julian kissed him again before pulling away, propping up his head to eye his lover suspiciously. Garak _had_ caught on rather quickly after their first time, that maybe he hadn’t needed such instruction....

“Or perhaps you knew more than you let on and were just humoring me.”

But Garak smiled sweetly under his scrutiny, answering with honeyed words. “Well, my love, you did seem to be enjoying yourself. I didn’t have the heart to interrupt.”

My love…he quite liked that. Yes, he had received a few new names recently: dear, darling, Julian…and now love. And now Garak was Elim, of course, at least when he was on his best behavior...perhaps some endearments as well. Yes, that clever tongue of Elim’s knew exactly how to please him in every way, and now that he had adjusted to his new body, things would only get better. Such a lovely promise…whatever else happened in between, there was always this…For a little while, anyway.

Warm lethargy was beginning to take over, but he didn’t care to fight it, closing his eyes to welcome its embrace. Really, it was quite nice to just lie here after such wonderful lovemaking, completely sated, vaguely aware of the brush of a wipe between his legs. Yes, what a thoughtful lover Garak was turning out to be.

He would allow himself a few more minutes of rest, but it was still too early to sleep. Just another minute or two, then he would get up and grab a bite of something and hunker down in front of that console. But right now all he wanted was to bask in this intimacy for a little longer…

Suddenly the mattress became lighter. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, finding Garak nearly out the door.

“Where are you going?”

“My couch, since you seem so inclined to sleep now.”

Julian frowned, and maybe his bottom lip was protruding the least bit, but he _wasn’t_ pouting. “You don’t need to go back there. I want you here with me, where you should have been all along.”

Garak raised an eyebrow. “Ah, so your suggestion to share a bed was never innocent?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Garak. I simply didn’t want you cramped on that couch.”

It seemed enough to convince him, a warm smile spreading across Garak’s face. “Then give me a moment to administer my hypo, then I’ll be back.” He was soon out the door, but not before taking the time to pick up Julian’s clothes and set them on the nightstand.

He had probably dozed off for a couple minutes, because the next thing Julian knew he was being pulled into an embrace, returning it happily as he nestled against Garak’s chest. Good, still naked...a little sweaty, but that hardly mattered. This was perfect.

“I’ll admit the couch isn’t nearly as comfortable as this,” Garak murmured, chuckling into Julian’s hair. “Tell me, dear, are all Humans this clingy after mating, or is it a particularly Julian trait?”

He mumbled out a halfhearted explanation, not in the mood to go too in depth right now. “It’s more common among women, actually, but I enjoy it as well sometimes... And it’s not my fault you’re so comfy.” He gave Garak’s middle a good squeeze to demonstrate.

“I would like to say this bit of padding was something Dr. Selvik added on, but I’m afraid exile hasn’t been kind to my once trim figure.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Julian said, chuckling softly. “This exercise regimen I’ve prescribed will work wonders if you stick with it.”

“Doctor’s orders?”

“Doctor’s orders.”

“Well, then I suppose I have no choice.”

“…No, I’m not ready for another round yet. Don’t look at me like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is now officially my longest chapter. Thanks to anyone who made it through! I had this exploration scene planned for a while, but I didn't know it would be tacked on to two other scenes. So that's how it became this behemoth of a chapter. The next one should be a more proper length!
> 
> I'd just like to say a big thanks to everyone who has left comments, kudos, or is just lurking (I see you there). You guys are what make writing this so much fun! Posting new chapters is the highlight of my weeks. My last chapter got the most hits of any one chapter, which is kinda funny because I think I know why, but I'm also really touched. (Poor choice of words. I'll stop.)
> 
> A few other quick notes. "Slet" is borrowed from [tinsnip and Vyc's Kardasi dictionary](https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B2wcj3iYdWofYjN1elFWaWZoTlU/view) because I'm not clever enough to come up with my own expletive. I took some inspiration from airandangels' [Comparative Anatomy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/228967) for the exploration scene because it's one of my favorites. And all Cardassian anatomy is taken from tinsnip's [Speculative Cardassian Reproductive Xenobiology](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1719479).
> 
> Now that we've interrupted the plot for two chapters of smut...tune in next week for more questions and a new target.


	28. Target

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian and Garak decide their next course of action.

Julian let out a sigh, trying to squeeze the headache from the bridge of his nose. That third cup of _gelat_ didn’t seem to be helping. There were still only three paragraphs staring back at him from his padd, stylus lying uselessly on his desk.

Two days ago he had promised Parmak to have this done by the end of the week, and now that was fast approaching and he was still nowhere near finished. And to make matters worse, he really didn’t have time to spare on this now that yet another patient had been admitted to the isolation ward. The words were just being too finicky, not arranging themselves in the proper order, but that really wasn’t the issue, was it? No, he just didn’t have enough to include in his progress report to the Science Ministry.

It wasn’t easy to make his findings sound promising without stretching the truth. The only real advances he had made were in symptom relief, improving some of the treatments Parmak had already been using to reduce inflammation and alleviate fevers, but somehow he didn’t think the Cardassian bureaucrats who had authorized his research would be very impressed. Yes, his understanding of the _rudeli petis_ bacteria continued to broaden, but he hadn’t found anything effective in killing it yet, or even slowing its reproduction substantially. None of the many combinations of microorganism-produced chemicals he had tried had shown any success in weakening the bacteria, even the ones that had initially seemed promising. And those were all based on antibiotic substances that had proven effective against similarly structured bacteria.

But the Science Ministry was anxious for results…and if they didn’t start seeing some soon, they might revoke their invitation. Pushing his empty cup of _gelat_ aside, Julian picked up his stylus and forced his mind back into focus.

The words were finally starting to flow when his office door suddenly chimed. He answered with a quick “come in,” trying to finish his thought as he saw Telma enter in his periphery, slipping off her sanitary mask. He offered her a glance and continued working.

“Good news, Julian,” came the nurse’s smiling near-whisper. “My superiors are quite impressed with your work.”

Julian glanced up from his padd with only mild interest. “Are they?”

“They are,” Telma answered as if she had been given his undivided attention. She kept her voice low as she continued, but her tone was as relaxed as ever. “They’ve reviewed your recording and believe it will prove useful in Starfleet Command’s deliberations. They’re also pleased with the initiative you’ve shown taking on this new assignment, and are looking forward to your results.”

Suddenly she was standing closer to Julian, looking over his shoulder at his console screen. There was only a nucleotide sequence diagram on display, but he still didn’t appreciate it, shoulders tensing.

“Perhaps you’ve already found something I can send them?” she asked.

Well, that was new. Unless he was mistaken, this was the first time Telma had ever come to him inquiring on the status of his mission. She probably had no other choice now. Yes, this certainly was interesting.

Julian set down his padd and swiveled around to face her, already prepared for this conversation. “Not yet. But at least we can rule out Dukat’s home computer.”

“Oh?” Telma was the picture of intrigued curiosity, a half-smile and an eye ridge raised. “Were you able to access his personal computer?”

“Yes, but we didn’t find anything useful.” Julian held her gaze steadily, watching for any indication of her thoughts. She probably already knew about their black bag operation, having had a front row seat under Garak’s thumbnail, but she might not know everything. Better not volunteer any more information than necessary. “Wherever those plans are, they’re probably not with him.”

Telma smiled down at Julian. “He _is_ the most obvious person to suspect, isn’t he? Which probably means he’s smart enough not to possess them, especially when his console is vulnerable to hacking…” She paused for a moment, tapping her chin. “That’s all right. We still have some more time to find these plans…but with the way Dukat keeps gaining influence with the Assembly, I’m not sure how much.”

It was a little harder to keep his confidence when she had a height advantage, but no, he had better remain seated for now. It would project an air of comfortable nonchalance as he launched into the questions he hoped she could answer – the reason they still needed her.

“These contacts you have close to Rejal…have they been keeping an eye on Councillor Regnok?”

Telma’s eye ridge raised another millimeter. “Why, should they?”

She wouldn’t give it to him that easily. He had to proceed with caution.

“He does seem the next most likely suspect, don’t you think?” Julian asked, leaning back in his chair. “A member of the Council, a pawn of Dukat, the man responsible for the Torr massacre.”

“That’s a little simplistic to call him _entirely_ responsible…” Telma remarked with a little grin. “But to answer your previous question, yes. We’ve had our eye on him since he was first appointed to the Detapa Council, but he hasn’t demonstrated any suspicious behavior. That’s to be expected, of course, since I doubt he’d be stupid enough to do anything near the Council if he’s involved in Dukat’s plan...” Her gaze trailed around the room, taking a moment to think, before returning to Julian. “Yes, if Regnok does have the plans, they’ll most likely be somewhere secure…his home in Coranum, perhaps. That’s where I would focus my attentions.”

Julian let a small smile curl his lips, because wasn’t it interesting how she was suddenly willing to provide more direction? But before he could offer some subtle Garak-esque response, she was hovering near his desk, taking interest in his collection of empty mugs.

“You’ve acquired quite the taste for _gelat_ , I see,” she observed, chuckling. “At this rate we’ll be able to slap some scales and ridges on you and send you on the _really_ fun missions.”

Julian followed her with his eyes as she took it upon herself to return his mugs to replicator, scooping all three up in her arms. It was hard to tell if she was joking or not, but either way it brought up an interesting question. Honestly, he wasn’t sure he wanted any more missions after this. As important and thrilling as spy work was, he was still first and foremost a doctor, and really, he was looking forward to returning to DS9 after this was over.

“Is that how you got promoted?” he asked flatly.

Telma’s only answer was a coy smile, already returning with two fresh mugs of _gelat._ Julian accepted one with a thanks, figuring he could probably use another mug if he was going to power through the rest of his report that afternoon.

Something about the way Julian sipped his beverage seemed to amuse the woman, her lips curling into a smirk. “I do hope Garak isn’t wearing you out too much. We need you fresh and alert now more than ever.”

Julian returned her grin with a flat stare, determined not to let her embarrass him. “I’ll be fine,” he answered over his mug. “It’s not his fault anyway, it’s all this paperwork…”

“Really? I’ve never known a padd to bite.”

She was examining him a little too closely, gaze fixed on his neck, so he glanced over and – oh. How had that little bruise, peeking out from just above his collar, slipped past him? Garak must have made it that morning when they had spent a few extra minutes lounging in bed, just a quick little taste before their shift.

Telma’s voice drew him back from the lovely but untimely memory. “Just be sure not to bother the neighbors. It would be quite a hassle to find you new accommodations, and I don’t think it would be wise to add another lewdness infraction to your records.” She was still grinning, quite pleased with herself, as she pulled out a chair and took a seat facing Julian.

He swallowed his disgust, knowing full well how she knew about their records. God, sometimes it seemed like she enjoyed their conversations a little too much, that no matter what was being said, it was all for her entertainment. And she hardly needed to remind Julian to be careful. Yes, they had been a little careless the first few times, too eager and desperate to worry about anything but their bodies’ demands, but now they were really trying to be quieter. He had only let his moans run away with him once last night, and that had been fixed by keeping his face in the pillow, convenient when he was on his knees getting pounded from behind… But Julian decided to ignore that comment and return to the reason he needed this conversation to continue.

“There’s something else I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

Telma raised her brow ridges from above her _gelat_ , inviting him to continue.

Julian leaned closer, lowering his voice a touch further, as if somehow this was any more confidential than the rest of their conversation. “Have you seen any evidence of a less than professional relationship between Dukat and Rejal?”

“You mean an affair?”

“Yes. It would explain how she’s being so easily manipulated by him, and I imagine a scandal like that would do a lot of damage to their credibility.”

Telma shrugged. “Not that I’ve heard.” She lifted her gaze, eyes locking onto Julian’s. “But even if that were the case, any use of that information would be too great an interference to be allowed under the Prime Directive. Remember, Julian, we’re still only here to observe and gather intelligence for Starfleet.”

Julian held her gaze steadily, his face revealing nothing. “Right. Of course.”

The office fell silent as they took a few moments to sip their _gelat_ , strong bitter scent wafting through the air. Julian let the pause stretch on for a few more moments before bringing up his next objective.

“You know, this observation would be a lot easier if I could access any of the consoles or surveillance in the Council,” he pointed out, keeping his voice casual.

Telma’s grin widened. “Oh? Is Garak still not having any luck?” she asked, taking far too much amusement in that fact. She took a moment to get comfortable, crossing her legs as she sipped her warm beverage. “Well, as much as we’d like to help, I’m afraid any interference in security would put my contacts at too great a risk, threatening years of infiltration work on Starfleet’s part…But rest assured I’ll provide you with relevant information when I hear it.”

Oh, yes, he would certainly rest assured in that, in this very convenient excuse for denying him the one thing that would remove his dependence on her. Of course she may very well be telling the truth, but he was a little past giving her the benefit of the doubt.

“All right…” he said, just the right amount of disappointment. That was about enough of her for one day. “Well, I really should be getting back to this report, so…”

“No time for chatting, I understand.” Telma stood up with an unconcerned smile, taking the time to dispose of her mug before turning back to Julian. “I’ll see you around the hospital. Oh, and you might want to fix that before anyone notices,” she added, pointing to his neck. “The nurses here love to gossip.”

“I will,” Julian muttered, already back facing his desk with padd in hand, finding the lackluster sentence he had left off on. But from the corner of his eye he could see her pause by the door, hand hovering over the button before turning her gaze back to him.

“It may be thrilling, Julian, but I do hope you keep your priorities straight.”

Julian frowned as the door swallowed her up with a short hiss, leaving him alone once more. He was beginning to hate how she would do that, drop some clever line just before leaving, like she always had to get the last word. But he pushed his irritation aside for the time being – there were more interesting parts of that conversation to consider right now.

She had passed his test – still holding on to the Prime Directive, he saw, or at least paying it lip service. How long she would continue before slipping, well, that remained to be seen. He would be sure to keep watching.

But in the meantime, it was no big loss to him. He and Garak hadn’t found any records of communications with Rejal on Dukat’s personal console, so it was doubtful there was anything between them. But what they _had_ found was just as important. They hadn’t finished sifting through all the relay logs yet, but the sheer number of communications with Regnok was enough to give them a new target.

 

* * *

 

After their first eight or so rounds, Julian and Garak were finally able to concentrate properly on their work. That didn’t mean there wasn’t an absurd amount of less-than-casual thigh touches or massages at the console, but at least they were able to work together for more than fifteen minutes without taking their clothes off. They had actually been quite productive, and in three more days they had managed to complete their review of Dukat’s relay logs and put a few plans into motion to access their next target.

The relay logs had ended up providing more questions than answers, but even with all the uncertainty, at least two things were now clear: Regnok was heavily involved in the Dominion plot, and Dukat’s Changeling contact was on Cardassia. They had no solid proof of the latter yet, but it seemed the only way to explain the lack of subspace communication logs on Dukat’s console.

It really would have been convenient if their two findings were connected, but they had seen Regnok’s blood with their own eyes, normal Cardassian blood. But wherever the Changeling was, it had to be close enough for Dukat to contact without the use of subspace.

As small as this progress was, at least it was something. Dukat had already been allowed too much time to put his plans into motion, and indeed by the way Telma spoke, it seemed like they no longer had the luxury of dawdling. It was only a matter of time before Dukat gained enough support to make his move. And when that happened, nothing they showed Rejal, no war plans or recorded evidence or even the Changeling bound and dragged into her office, would matter. She probably wouldn’t be around to see it.

But even with Dukat’s growing influence in the Assembly, not everyone seemed so enamored with him. It was a subtle change, one that Julian hadn’t even realized at first, but it seemed the constabularies were slowly withdrawing some of their units from Torr. It wasn’t clear if that was because they no longer considered the dissident movement a threat, confident that they had eradicated it, or some of the senior staff was rebelling against the Council. He had often heard, from Garak and even the two constables they had bribed, that there was tension between Rejal and the constabularies.

But whatever was really going on, it seemed the residents of Torr were happy. Perhaps a little too happy, a little too comfortable. As much as Julian should have been pleased to see the dissidents finding their voice again, distributing broadsheets at the corner _geleta_ house, he couldn’t help but worry what might happen if they pushed back too hard. He doubted Meya Rejal would hesitate to quash their protests again. It made him feel a little uneasy as he walked past a smashed viewscreen on the way back from the hospital.

But now, as their apartment door slid shut behind them, Julian was glad to finally be alone with Garak.

“Now will you tell me if you were able to do it?” Julian asked as they hung up their dust masks and cloaks. It had a been a dusty walk home, and there was a thin layer of dirt already accumulating by the door.

“Yes, now that it is safe to do so,” Garak answered, turning to Julian after straightening his cloak. “Really, dear, you know we can’t speak of this in public.”

“A yes or no would have sufficed.”

Garak smiled patiently. “Well here you have it now: no, I was not able to access their surveillance or plant any of my own devices.”

The excitement faded from Julian’s eyes. “Well, there goes that idea.” It had been a long shot anyway, but that still didn’t make it any less disappointing. “Why not?”

But Garak didn’t answer right away, taking a moment to grab a broom and start on the mess they had tracked in. Not the most efficient of cleaning methods, but with their energy so limited, and the replicator reserved for certain _very_ crucial items, they had to make do with primitive technology.

“Because I wasn’t given even a moment to slip off by myself,” Garak finally answered, sweeping the spot methodically. “It seems they have tightened security since the last time I was at the Council Chamber. Our courteous escort wouldn’t leave our side the entire time Telma and I were making our deliveries, and there were guards stationed in nearly every hall. I did manage to inquire with Regnok’s aide about dropping by, but apparently even quick hellos must be scheduled months in advance.”

Well of course they had tightened security with such convenient timing. It only made sense that the Council would undermine their efforts without even knowing they were on Cardassia… It _was_ a little strange, but as Garak had been telling him lately, if the Bureau had any suspicions, he and Garak would already be locked up. When it came to protecting the Council, Alon Ghemor was as efficient as any Order operative.

Julian took a moment to consider their options, not really caring how many wrinkles creased his forehead. “Is there any way you could beam in?” he asked, watching Garak work. “If we could get our hands on a portable transporter…”

“That won’t work, I’m afraid,” Garak replied, bending down to brush the very last specks of dust into the pan. “The Council Chamber, like most of our buildings in Tarlak, is protected by a force field.”

Julian frowned. He really should have expected that. Well, then regular break-in attempts would be out of the question. It was really a shame that Garak’s personal comm could only hack surveillance at close range. “All right, so we can’t monitor Regnok at work…”

“I still have access to surveillance in the Assembly Hall,” Garak reminded. “But I don’t expect that will do us much good. He rarely goes there unless his presence is required by the Civilian Assembly. Dukat, on the other hand, seems to be in there once a week making overtures, but there’s not much I can gather beyond that.” Garak stepped back to admire his work. Somehow he had managed to use the broom far more efficiently than Julian ever could.

“What about his house?” Julian asked. As untrustworthy as Telma was, it did seem like a good suggestion, especially now that they had used his communication records to trace his address. “It won’t be easy since it’s in Coranum, but if you could tag along with Parmak on a house call, you might be able to use the same trick you used in Dukat’s house.”

Garak took a moment to consider his scheme, as if he hadn’t already run through every possible scheme, returning the broom to its closet. “That may work, but with Dukat’s house I had the advantage of familiarity. It may not be so simple this time.”

Julian grinned as he followed Garak to the console. He had always suspected as much, but it was nice – if not a little strange – to hear Garak volunteer that information. Really, this whole thing was rather nice. Their results had been disappointing so far, but at least they were on the same page.

Garak took a seat in front of the console and began the daily routine, checking on all his various endeavors – surveillance, spyware, algorithms – as Julian stood behind him, leaning against his chair as he watched. Some days the console offered them nothing, just useless surveillance footage, but today it didn’t take Garak long to find something.

“Well, we have our answer concerning the arms dealer,” Garak said, reading the text on the screen. “The _geleta_ house owner has no recollection of such a man using their public comm. I suppose six months is too long to remember a particular customer.”

Julian leaned a bit closer, resting his arms on the back of the chair. “But aren’t you always boasting about Cardassians’ long-term memory?”

“It doesn’t extend to all of us, I’m afraid.”

Damnit, another dead end. It had seemed so promising at first, when Garak had found this man’s name among the relay logs and recognized him as an arms dealer he just happened to know (one does not discriminate when hemming trousers, of course). But when Garak had tried to look him up, he found no record of the man. They had traced the log back to a public comm in a _geleta_ house, but thanks to the unhelpful response to Garak’s anonymous inquiry, that was where the trail ended.

Garak was now reviewing the progress of his code-testing algorithms, it seemed, still trying to remotely access the systems he hadn’t been able to hack.

“Any luck with the Council’s computers?” Julian asked, but really, that had been a stupid question. He could tell from the tension in Garak’s shoulders that today wasn’t the day he accessed Regnok’s console or personal comm. So he apologized with a little massage, squeezing and kneading just where Garak liked it.

And yes, Garak’s tension was quickly draining under Julian’s clever hands, a sigh escaping his lips. “For a while I seemed to be making progress, but now it appears they have altered their security system again, which means I must rework my own subroutines to compensate...” His hands left the controls as leaned back into Julian’s touch. “As frustrating as this is, I can’t help but admire Alon Ghemor’s ingenuity.”

“I’d admire it more if it wasn’t undermining all of our ideas,” Julian muttered, fingers digging into a tight spot. “There has to be some other way to monitor Regnok, at least until we can find a way into his house.” They might have to wait a while to schedule a house call, depending on Regnok’s medical records, and the sooner they acted, the better.

Garak was suddenly swiveling around to face him, promptly ending his massage. “There is, but I doubt you’ll like it.”

“What?”

“Find someone close to him and ask a few questions, learn his vulnerabilities…”

Julian eyed him with a little confusion, taking a seat on the arm of the couch. “I doubt anyone close to Regnok would just _tell_ us…oh.” He frowned. “You mean an interrogation?”

“Yes,” Garak answered simply, a little smile on his lips. “With your clever amnesic, it would pose little risk to us…”

But that was hardly the issue. Julian’s frown only deepened, not liking that casual tone of voice Garak was using, as if this was some everyday thing…Well, of course he would sound like that, he _was_ still a former Order agent, and Julian would be stupid to forget that. Still, that didn’t change his views on the matter.

“No. I told you before, Garak, I want no part in interrogations.”

Garak eyed him with a curious head tilt, as if trying to understand something so strange and baffling. “It _is_ part of the job, my dear.”

But no, even if that was true, Julian’s mind was already made up, and he wouldn’t consider it further, not now. He held Garak’s gaze stubbornly. “Well until it becomes an absolutely unavoidable part of the job, I’m not going to consider it.”

Garak said no more, letting the room plunge into silence.

This tension was a little strange after the week they had had, after all the lovely little things they had learned about each other, and as strongly as Julian felt about the matter, he didn’t really care for _this_ feeling, didn’t want it to drag on any longer. 

“Besides,” he said, breaking the silence with a smile. “We still have other options. What if we found a way to watch Regnok in public? That worked out pretty well with Dukat at Kurat Tavern.”

“Because you learned through his console that he would be there,” Garak pointed out. “With Regnok, we have no idea what establishments he might frequent, and as much as Dukat and Regnok communicate privately, they don’t seem to associate regularly in public.”

But Julian was already ready for this. _“_ Maybe we don’t, but I know someone who does.” His smile grew wider, loving that look of intrigue on Garak’s face, that raised eyebrow and those slightly parted lips. Julian needed a moment to savor it before continuing. “A lot of little details are exchanged during small talk between doctor and patient.”

Garak seemed to understand, mirroring Julian’s grin with just a touch of reptilian flair. “My dear, I thought you were opposed to interrogation.”

“We would hardly need to interrogate Parmak.” He had to roll his eyes at that, because of course Garak’s mind would automatically go there. “I think he and I are good enough friends that if I was subtle enough with my questions, he would tell me _something_ that would help us.”

“Ah, but the question is, can Julian Bashir be subtle enough?”

But Julian only grinned wider, not willing to give him the satisfaction of a glare. “Claim to doubt me all you like, _Elim_ , but I do remember you calling me clever…‘far more clever than you give me credit for’ was the exact phrase, I believe.”

Garak’s eyes were shimmering now, a brighter smile pulling at his lips than he would allow. “That only shows that you have a very Cardassian memory, dear.”

All right, that was enough on that topic. Julian stood up and headed toward the crate of ration bars in the corner, suddenly realizing that his stomach was empty. “If it makes you feel any better,” he said as he sifted through all the appetizing options. “You can be there to keep me from putting my foot in my mouth.”

“I don’t know why you would need me to stop you from performing such an odd acrobatic act…”

“It’s an expression, Garak,” Julian laughed, deciding on the least cardboard-esque of the five flavors. “Now let’s have a quick bite to eat, then there are a few things I’ve been wanting to do to you all day…”

Garak stood up to meet an eagerly approaching Julian, quite unimpressed. “I would think that after these last five days you would be at least a little sated.”

Poor Garak. He was a master at controlling his face, but that control didn’t seem to extend to his entire body.

“As if you aren’t just as interested.” Julian was standing in front of him now, face to lying face, letting his eyes drag down to Garak’s crotch as he handed him a ration bar.

Garak accepted his dinner without blinking. “It’s really no wonder your previous relationships didn’t last long.”

“Excuse me?”

“Just look at you,” Garak returned with that insufferably smug smile, gaze dipping to admire the fit of Julian’s trousers. “You’re insatiable. It’s a good thing we Cardassians are made of sterner stuff.” He met Julian’s eyes, taking a bite of his ration bar.

But Julian just laughed, because as much as he wanted to shut Garak up and drag him to bed, he needed a bit of nourishment first. “I’m not the one with the two-minute refractory period…” he retorted instead, then added under his breath, “God, I can’t imagine what you were like when you were younger…”

Garak’s smile turned a shade darker. “Ah, but I can easily say I’ve been making up for lost time. It _has_ been years since I’ve indulged these urges, after all…But you, who have never known celibacy, really have no excuse.”

All right, a few bites of dinner were good enough. He closed the distance between them, ready with an argument even Garak couldn’t refute.

 

* * *

 

Councillor Teron Regnok was not due for an appointment. A quick look at his medical records the next morning confirmed it – he was up to date on all vaccines, preventive tests, and routine check-ups. His blood test, of course, had been done less than a month ago, and he had had a few more tests since then. There was no way, short of inventing an unnecessary and ethically questionable reason, of getting him to schedule a house call.

But his wife, Ilya Regnok, was a different story. She was due for a physical exam and a few vaccine boosters by the end of the month, and unless she had some convenient case of iatrophobia, she would be seeing Dr. Parmak shortly. Garak had already sent her an appointment reminder. Now all they could do was hope that she opted for a house call, as was the option afforded to someone of her status.

But in the meantime, they had another avenue to explore.

It had been a while since they had eaten lunch with Dr. Parmak, not since that _kotra_ game in the break room. But this lunch was better to have in Julian’s office, away from all active viewscreens and nosy nurses. If Parmak found the invitation odd, he didn’t show it, looking quite pleased to accept. Still, it was important to tread carefully, because as innocuous and good-natured as Parmak seemed, he could hold his own against the Obsidian Order’s finest, at least where intellect was concerned. And even if they did think they could trust Parmak – which Garak would never agree to – Parmak already seemed on precarious footing with some assembly members, so any involvement could endanger Parmak’s career, if not more.

So they started off lunch with something plain and simple, just a friendly discussion about literature.

“I’m surprised you’re still reading _Behind the Mask_ after I so thoughtlessly spoiled the ending,” Parmak said in between sips of _gelat._ They were all seated around Julian’s research table, which was surprisingly free of clutter at the moment.

“Andy has spoiled plenty of endings and it’s never stopped me before,” Julian replied, teasing Garak with a grin _._ “I suppose it’s just nice to have some mindless drivel on hand when my brain wants to relax.”

It had the intended effect. Garak gaped at him from over his spoonful of _tojal_ stew, shocked and offended. “Mindless drivel?” he huffed, but Julian’s smirk refused to apologize. “Sometimes I wonder why I put up with you, Sid…”

“Oh, come on, Andy,” Julian shot back, a crumb escaping his mouth as he chewed his flatbread. “Even you can admit that enigma tales aren’t the most sophisticated form of literature.” It was strange, actually, that a complex and highly intellectual man like Garak could enjoy such predictable novels. At least Julian’s spy novels were exciting.

Garak took a moment to chew his food properly before replying, eyeing the mess around Julian’s plate. “Not the highest form of Cardassian literature, perhaps, but still more nuanced than the potboilers you enjoy.”

But before Julian could offer some retort, Parmak decided to join the debate. “To be fair,” he said, raising his hands diplomatically. “The plot did offer some surprises at the end…but I knew from early on that things weren’t quite as they seemed.”

Garak turned his smile on Parmak now, blinking blandly. “Very perceptive of you. But I hope you didn’t jump to any conclusions too early in the narrative. Assumptions can be quite detrimental to our understanding of literature, as I’m sure Sid can tell you.” His grin was back on Julian, eyes gleaming.

Parmak lowered his fork thoughtfully. “No, but I did pay close attention to the details, watching for any hints that Shoggoth may have dropped…But what are your criticisms of the work, Dr. El Fadil?”

Julian held Parmak’s gaze over his mug for just a moment before setting it down, his smile returning. “Well besides the one-dimensional characters and their predictable actions…” he began, ignoring Garak’s scoff. “The symbolism feels clunky. All these mask metaphors are a bit heavy handed.”

“Perhaps,” Garak allowed. “But that is only one of the many metaphors woven into the narrative. If you would only take the time to look deeper, my dear, instead of _devouring_ everything so quickly, as is your tendency…”

It was really quite shameful of Garak to resort to such a tactic when he was losing the argument, that wicked smirk, that brush of their legs under the table…

And poor Parmak seemed a little uncomfortable now, shifting in his chair as he glanced between them. Julian chastised his lover with a glare, because really, Garak knew better than to tease him like that in front of others. Besides, they had better not get too distracted, not when the lunch hour was waning and they hadn’t accomplished anything besides this battle of flirtatious jabs.

Now was as good a time as any to begin.

“Well since you appreciate complexity so much,” Julian said to Garak, grinning as if none of this had been planned over their morning _gelat_. “Perhaps you’d like to complete the processing forms for Glinn Aghet this afternoon?”

“You wouldn’t be so cruel, Sid.”

That was enough to pique Parmak’s interest, it seemed, his smile returning. “Ah, is he that disabled veteran you have in the isolation ward?”

“Yes, and his status as such has made it far more difficult to provide him with care,” Garak explained, his brow furrowing.

Julian was quick to continue the explanation, now that Parmak had taken the bait. He probably would have brought up this issue anyway, but this way they could get far more use out of it. “I’ve been having some trouble coordinating with Aghet’s doctors at Central Command. They keep sending me more paperwork to complete before they’ll even speak with me. Only yesterday did they respond to my request for Aghet’s medical records, but the files they sent me were incomplete. There’s just so much red tape that I’m limited in what I can do to treat him.”

Parmak dabbed his lips with a napkin before responding, and really, by the way he and Garak were eating, Julian was beginning to feel like a slob.

“I’m afraid that’s not uncommon,” the doctor said, shaking his head. “I have to struggle with the Central Command coordination process whenever one of their patients is sent here. I understand that the war has left them understaffed, but you would expect some level of cooperation with us civilian doctors when we’re caring for their patients.”

“And don’t we also send them a large portion of our plague vaccines?” Garak pointed out, lifting his spoon. “It’s rather rude of them to be so unhelpful.”

Parmak sighed. “It’s a problem I’ve been trying to address for a while now. I have spoken to a few people at the Science Ministry, but they all tell me to take my concerns to Councillor Regnok, Central Command’s liaison. But it’s been impossible to reach him. His appointment waitlist stretches two to three months, which is a long time to wait when we have patients who aren’t getting the care they need.”

Julian was careful to control his expression, none of that little glee curling his lips, even though this was turning out better an anticipated. “What if you tried to contact Regnok through unofficial channels?” he suggested, just a spontaneous idea. “If you were to approach him at a restaurant or a _geleta_ house, he might spare you a moment to listen.”

“Sid was notorious for ambushing professors at the Academy,” Garak interjected, grinning proudly. “Not the politest of methods, perhaps, but effective.”

Parmak took a moment to consider the idea – quite a long moment – as he chewed a bite of _jila_ fish. “It’s not an approach I have often used, but with enough friendliness and tact, it may work. Our military patients would certainly benefit from an expedited admittance process.”

He took another bite, chewing for a good minute, before answering Julian’s unspoken question.

“I don’t know any restaurants that Regnok frequents, but I have seen him regularly at my favorite bathhouse.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr is [mistybluesea](https://mistybluesea.tumblr.com/) in case anyone is interested. I don't post a lot of original content these days, just the occasional meme or gif, but who knows, I might get back into drawing. I've been meaning to draw Julian's catsuit.
> 
> Tune in next week for Kel, enigma tales, and a Cardassian bath house.


	29. Guarded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garak and Kel discuss enigma tales. Julian and Garak visit Parmak's favorite bathhouse.

Garak seemed to be avoiding the isolation ward.

It was strange, and Julian didn’t really understand why, but something had changed in recent days. Maybe Garak really was too busy at the front desk or running labs or administering vaccines to assist Julian, but it seemed a little odd how often it happened. At first he had thought maybe Garak was actually avoiding _him_ , that he didn’t think they could interact professionally now that they were sleeping together, but they still shared regular lunches and Garak was as cooperative as always in the lab. His avoidance seemed limited to the isolation ward.

Of course it could have been Garak’s claustrophobia… Maybe he felt too confined in the field-protected ward. He had claimed as much on the day after his first major claustrophobia attack, but the isolation ward wasn’t any smaller than other parts of the hospital, and was actually much larger than Julian’s office, where Garak seemed quite at home. But that was the only explanation he could think of.

Really, he could have just asked Garak, and maybe he would if this behavior continued, but right now they were still enjoying the blissful beginning of their relationship, all smiles and stolen kisses and amorous nights, and he really didn’t want it to end just yet.

Still, he could have used Garak’s help in the isolation ward that morning. There had been a few visitors – Glinn Aghet’s brother, Ejat’s father, and Kel’s mother – and it was becoming a little hectic. But when he called for Garak over his wrist comm, Nurse Rhan appeared instead. Apparently “Nurse Robinson was unavailable at the moment.”

At least the afternoon brought more luck. It was much slower, but Garak actually showed up for his afternoon shift, apologizing for the hectic morning, and after a few “my dears” and a well-placed brush of the hand, Julian had forgotten the morning’s frustration. But he still watched Garak closely as he worked, searching for any sign of anxiety or an impending panic attack.

So far it had been an hour and Garak seemed fine. Julian still kept an eye on him, observing from his periphery as Garak prepared Kel’s medication., but he seemed in perfect health, his hands steady, his breathing pattern regular. If the ward was too confining for him, he was doing a good job suppressing his anxiety.

But that was all the attention he could spare to Garak at the moment. His patients deserved his undivided focus, and there was still much to do before the end of his shift. After prepping his hypospray for a blood test, he crossed the room to Kel’s biobed.

Kel had been receiving treatment for a little over a week now, but besides reacting well to Julian’s symptom alleviators, she wasn’t showing much improvement. Her last tests hadn’t been very encouraging, revealing a slight weakening of her immune system as the plague slowly continued to spread through her lungs. No fever yet, so at least she was still in the early stages.

But even her worsening cough and medication-induced drowsiness didn’t seem to dampen Kel’s mood. She continued to remain optimistic whenever Julian saw her, hoping to continue studying at the Institute for State Policy in the fall.

Right now she was engrossed in one of the books her mother had brought her, as she often was between treatments. She didn’t seem to notice Julian approach, head thoroughly buried in her padd.

Julian cleared his throat. “Sorry to interrupt, but I need a quick blood sample.”

The girl gave a little jolt, glancing up. “Sorry, just a moment, I have one paragraph left…” Then her gaze returned promptly to her book, eyes flying back and forth across the screen until she appeared to be done, looking back up with an apologetic smile. “All right, I’m finished.”

One glance at the padd told him she had indeed finished the book, because there was that little Kardasi symbol that marked the end of every Cardassian novel. He knew it well.

“Didn’t you just start that one this morning?” Julian asked, running a quick tricorder scan over her.

“It was hard to put down.”

He closed his tricorder, taking the arm that she offered him. She was already quite accustomed to these tests, it seemed. “So how did it end?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Were all the suspects put to death for crimes against the State?” Yes, he had definitely caught Garak’s attention, if that soft tutting behind him meant anything.

Kel offered him a chuckle before her gaze turned contemplative. “No, just Gul Enpec…Though it was never clear if it was an execution or suicide. Either way the story needed him to die to serve its narrative. In a way, his death acted as an absolution from society’s collective crimes…Oh, I should have asked Mother to bring more enigma tales when she visits tomorrow.”

A Cardassian assessment if ever he heard one…Garak would like this patient.

“I think I know someone who can help…What do you say, Andy?” He shot a hopeful smile to where Garak was standing, still measuring Kel’s anti-inflammatory and cough medications. “You’ve got more than enough to spare.” He then turned back to Kel, pressing the hypospray to her arm. “I could even lend you the one I’m reading. It’s called _Behind the Mask,_ have you read it before?”

“I haven’t, but I wouldn’t want to keep you from finishing it.”

“I think I’ll survive.” Julian smirked, deliberately cheeky, because that grunt of disapproval behind him was just delightful, and he knew he would pay for it later. He met Garak’s eyes with a challenge as he took the blood-filled vile to the nearest console.

Garak, who could never miss a chance to lament Julian’s shortcomings, was quick to swoop in and offer his own opinion. “I’m afraid enigma tales aren’t quite to Sid’s tastes, despite my best efforts,” he said, approaching Kel’s biobed with a hypo in hand. Then he lowered his voice and leaned in, as if somehow Julian wouldn’t hear from a meter away. “Just between us, I don’t think the plots are sensational enough to satisfy his peculiar imagination.”

“I’m standing right here, Andy,” Julian huffed, truly offended as he grinned like an idiot. Perhaps it was a little unprofessional to engage in banter in front of a patient, but he was just glad to see Garak this relaxed in the isolation ward. He kept an ear on their conversation as he inserted Kel’s blood sample into the console, starting a basic analysis. He would run it in the lab later for a more in-depth study.

Garak was content to ignore Julian’s protest for the moment, the hypospray hissing as he said, “I would be more than happy to lend you a few enigma tales.”

“That’s very kind of you, Nurse Robinson. I’d love that,” Kel replied, a smile brightening her voice. “Honestly, I’m a little surprised that a Human would enjoy Cardassian literature. I’ve heard it’s very different from your own literature.”

“Most Humans seem to share the good doctor’s tastes, but I was raised by a Cardassian stepmother. She introduced me to all the great works of your culture – Preloc, Bry, Iloja of Prim – but she had a particular soft spot for enigma tales. I suppose that’s why I enjoy them.”

Glancing up, Julian saw that Garak was now fussing with the girl’s bedspread, smoothing out every wrinkle before moving to the nearby replicator to refill her water glass. He really was well suited for the role of a nurse, at least where his meticulous bedside manner was concerned.

Now Garak was back with a fresh glass, handing it to Kel before examining her padd. A beep from the console turned Julian’s attention back to the blood analysis.

“Ah, _A Battle of Feints._ One of my favorites.”

“Mother used to read enigma tales to me when I was a little girl, even though Father didn’t approve,” Kel said thoughtfully. “He believed I shouldn’t ‘waste my mind’ on something so beneath my level, that my education should be limited to works of a higher intellectual caliber.”

Oh, Garak wouldn’t like that. Julian grinned, ready to hear another grand denunciation and lamentation of such viewpoints, a spirited defense of his beloved enigma tales.

But Garak’s response was slightly more subdued than that. “That’s a shame. My stepmother believed that there is much to be learned from the stories a society tells to entertain itself, that there are deeper, often conflicting truths embedded beneath the surface. Enigma tales offer a more abstract exercise for the mind compared to other genres, but anyone can enjoy them. They’re not restricted to the elite as so many of your great works seem to be.”

“That’s funny, I’ve heard Mother say much the same thing.”

Their conversation dropped off into silence. Curious, Julian lifted his gaze to find four blue eyes locked in a stare.

Then the moment passed and Garak turned away.

“Ah, I believe it’s time for Ejat’s hypo. If you’ll excuse me…”

Julian only caught a glimpse of him before he disappeared through the curtain to Ejat’s section, but he no longer seemed so perfectly relaxed, just a hint of tension gripping his shoulders.

The following days proved quite busy for Garak. There were far too many patients to vaccinate, far too many labs to run, and far too little staff at the front desk, that he could never quite make it to the isolation ward when Julian called.  

 

* * *

 

A strange noise pierced through the clouds of Julian’s slumber. It took him a few bleary-eyed moments to identify it, yawning and shaking off his sleep until – ah, that’s what it was. A deep inhale, a long slow hiss, another inhale, another hiss, all coming from the body molded snugly against his back.

They didn’t fall asleep in each other’s arms anymore, it was far too hot for that, yet somehow Garak always ended up curled against Julian by morning. It left him with a sweat-covered back, which wasn’t the best thing to wake up to, but everything else was far too lovely to complain.

It was a little too early for big goofy grins, his eyes still barely open, but that didn’t seem to stop Julian’s mouth. Because for all the times Garak claimed not to be a cuddler, his limbs would still find their way around Julian every night.

Oh, but Garak was still making that odd noise, and this was the first time Julian had heard any sound from his sleeping lover. It wasn’t snoring exactly, but probably the Cardassian equivalent. At least that answered his idle question from back when they had bunked together on the civilian transport. God, that seemed like ages ago…

He gently maneuvered himself within Garak’s embrace, careful not to wake him, until he was facing the sleeping Cardassian. It was still a little strange to watch him like this, to see him so peaceful and vulnerable nearly every morning (when he didn’t wake up before Julian, that is). As many questions as Julian still had about his lover, it was clear by this simple act that he was one of the few beings in the universe Garak dared to trust – even if it was only a little. But Garak was lying here – eyes shut, lips parted and hissing away, his chest rising and falling softly – secure in the knowledge that Julian wouldn’t murder him. It was quite flattering, really.

Ah, but something was a little different this morning, he realized as he ran his fingers across silky fabric. Garak was quick to stir at the touch, eyes opening languidly to _blink blink_ at his bedmate.

“Good morning, my dear,” Garak murmured, voice rough from sleep.

“Morning.” Julian tugged on a sleeve. “What’s this?”

Garak hummed unconcernedly as he nestled his face into Julian’s shoulder. “Sleep garments. I believe you Humans call them pajamas.”

Perhaps it was silly, but a little worry had crept onto Julian’s forehead, even as Garak’s stubble tickled his skin. He didn’t quite like this new development.

“We’re past the sleeping naked phase already?”

Garak drew back until their bodies were no longer meshed together, eyeing Julian curiously as he blinked away his sleepiness. “I wasn’t aware Human courtship had phases.”

Courtship…that word sounded rather serious. But Julian didn’t really know what word _would_ accurately classify this not-too-casual-not-too-serious relationship they were in, so he let it pass.

“We don’t, not officially anyway,” he explained, running a hand through his tousled hair. “It’s just the way my relationships tend to progress, and well, when we stop sleeping naked, it’s like some of the excitement has died.”

“I assure you, my dear, I am just as excited about this as I was last week.” Garak’s legs bumped Julian’s as he rolled onto his belly and stretched luxuriously, the most lizard-looking person in Human skin. “I simply prefer the cleaner comfort of my pajamas, and really, it’s rather unheard of for a Cardassian to indulge in such decadent behavior.”

Julian rolled his eyes, a smile threatening his very sincere irritation. “Well I hope my nakedness doesn’t offend you.” He proceeded to strike his most offensive pose, propping up his head as he sprawled out on his side, one leg hitched up to display his cock. Not exactly erect right now, but it would still do the trick.

Yes, Garak was very offended, dragging his gaze down Julian’s body as he shifted on his side, just a hint of desire in his sleep-hazed eyes. “I must allow for our cultural differences, dear.” He took his sweet time scanning back up his lover’s body, lingering on a bite mark here and there until he met Julian’s eyes. “Besides, I’m afraid it’s too late to court you the proper Cardassian way. I would have needed to spend at least six months in the subtle art of wooing you before I made my intentions known.” His hand began wandering up Julian’s leg idly. “Then, if you accepted my interest, a small amount of physical contact would be permitted. The pressing of _chufas_ …” A hand around Julian’s waist drawing him closer, pressing their smooth foreheads together. “Short kisses…” A chaste peck on the lips. “All in private, mind you.”

Grinning, Julian brushed his lips lazily against Garak’s – just because he could, really, and wasn’t that wonderful? – before pulling back. “Of course. You wouldn’t want to be cited for public lewdness.”

“Precisely.”

Well, Julian was completely awake now, if the heat stirring in his groin meant anything. So he offered Garak his most sultry gaze, a gaze far too lewd for public, as his fingers toyed with that inconvenient pajama shirt. “At what stage would we be allowed to fuck?”

“Never, if you used such vulgar language,” Garak answered primly, raising an eyebrow at Julian’s arousal. “We would be allowed to _mate_ after receiving approval from both sets of families.”

“You mean we wouldn’t have to get married first?”

“Oh no, the betrothal stage should last at least a year before the couple is enjoined, perhaps longer depending on the wishes of the families.”

Julian squinted at Garak suspiciously, not quite sure he believed him. Honestly, with what he knew about Cardassian culture, all of this was very possible. God, he could just imagine some young couple begging their families – all siblings, cousins, parents, and grandparents crammed together in some living room – for permission to sleep together… Really, he was glad he wasn’t a Cardassian.

“Oh, it’s really too bad you didn’t seduce me the Cardassian way. I would have been beside myself with passion.” Sighing, Julian rolled onto his back with his legs spread open, arm flung over his head for dramatic flair.

But Garak only watched with an amused smirk, even as Julian stretched his body out like an invitation. “I’m sure you would be, especially during the ceremonial poetry recitation where I laud your beauty, second only to the glory of victory over Cardassia’s enemies, and the securing of a prosperous future for the posterity of the Union.”

“Oh Elim, keep talking like that and we might not make it to the hospital today.”

But as interested as Julian was in following this discussion to its inevitable conclusion, already half-hard from Garak’s ridiculous Cardassian seduction, he had just glanced at the chronometer, and there just wasn’t enough time. They had already been pushing it lately, arriving at the hospital just a little after the hour, and if that continued, it would put Parmak in the uncomfortable position of reprimanding them. Honestly, it would be a little amusing to see how he handled it…But cruel, too cruel. And very unprofessional.

So he dragged his professional arse out of bed with a groan, pressing a quick kiss to Garak’s cheek. That would have to do for now. Garak didn’t seem too happy either, mumbling something about Parmak managing without them before he gave in, pulling himself up to immerge from the blankets.

And with that, their morning routine began. It was basically the same as their old routine, with only a few minor changes that would take some getting used to, but they had mostly settled into it. Sharing the bed, for one, was a little different than Julian had expected. Garak was quite the blanket hog, which really wasn’t all that surprising, but as long as they were on Cardassia he had no complaints. Garak could smother himself in as many blankets as he pleased if they stayed on his side of the bed.

But the bed was all they had decided to share. Even with the barriers their relationship had crossed, they were still very particular about their space. They had learned early on in this mission that they couldn’t share a sink – if Julian left one stray hair on the counter, he would never hear the end of it. So they kept their previous arrangement, Julian using the sink and mirror in the bedroom while Garak groomed himself in the bathroom.

And really, that was fine with Julian, because as lovely as this newfound intimacy was, Garak could be a little insufferable in the morning. Oh, he was happy and pliant in bed, especially when kisses were traded and hands were roaming, but once he was forced out of his cocoon he was an absolute terror until his first cup of _gelat._  

But the scent of _gelat_ was soon wafting into the bedroom as Garak returned a while later. Julian looked up from the bag he was packing – just a few things they might need tonight – to find Garak immaculately groomed, not a wrinkle in his scrubs or a hair out of place. Of course Julian’s own hair was rebelling against the heat as usual, and today was especially bad. He hadn’t realized just how tangled longer hair could become.

But he decided not to comment on that, returning to his preparations for their next covert operation. It was still a little exciting, even after the thrills this mission had provided lately. Garak was soon by his side, sipping his beverage loudly while he watched. He seemed a little too curious about the garment Julian was currently folding.

“What are those?” Garak asked, peering closer.

“My swimming shorts.”

“Are you planning to wear them at the hospital?”

Julian chuckled at the thought, placing the silver trunks in his bag. “No, at the bathhouse.”

But Garak didn’t look any less confused, still eyeing him curiously.

“What, are they too risqué?” Come to think of it, he had no idea what sort of swimming attire Cardassians wore. He pulled out his shorts to inspect them – it had been a while since he last had occasion to wear them – but really, they were hardly too short or too tight.

“The opposite, actually,” Garak replied. “It’s considered rude to wear anything inside a bathhouse.”  

_Oh._ The swimming shorts slipped through Julian’s grasp to the bed. “You’re joking,” he said, but Garak’s casual little grin didn’t break. “So everyone is naked?”

“Yes…What did you expect?”

“Well, I just figured that anyone who considers sleeping naked to be promiscuous wouldn’t bathe naked in public.” Really, even the bathhouse he had visited on Risa had a clothing-optional policy. The baths weren’t gender segregated, but everyone was allowed to wear as much or as little as they desired.

Garak smiled patiently, still a little bemused by Julian’s surprise. “Baths are for bathing, my dear. There is nothing sexual about them.” He took a leisurely sip of _gelat_ before continuing _._ “If you wore clothes in a bathhouse, it would project an air of superiority that the other bathers wouldn’t appreciate…Even a towel around the waist can be considered bad manners.”

Julian hesitated, caught in the middle of packing his towel, before making up his mind. “I’m not going up to Regnok with my cock hanging out.” He shoved the towel inside his bag.

A smirk pulled at the corners of Garak’s lips, that look from earlier returning. “That _has_ been your most effective technique in the past,” he observed, blinking as if he was picturing it. “We must all make sacrifices for the good of the mission.”

Garak’s teasing was really on form this morning, but Julian was quite used to that by now. “Oh yes,” he retorted drily. “I’m sure a stodgy Cardassian politician is just _dying_ for a taste of this exotic flesh.” He turned his exotic flesh toward Garak, pulling back his collar for a peek at the marks his hungry lover had left him. Oh, he had better take care of that before tonight…

Garak’s eyes danced over Julian’s skin. “You would be surprised how many of us secretly fetishize other species…I suppose you’ll find out soon enough.”

Brilliant. As if he wasn’t already uncomfortable enough about the bathhouse idea…He released his collar, biting at his lip as he started to reconsider this plan of his…

“Really, dear,” Garak murmured, placing a hand on Julian’s shoulder. “You were the one to accept Parmak’s invitation.”

“I didn’t realize we would be quite this exposed.” He laughed a little nervously at his own pun.

Garak’s hand squeezed tightly, sending a wash of goosebumps over Julian’s skin. “Honestly I’m surprised this bothers you, given your exhibitionist tendencies.” Then he drew back, taking that grabby hand with him.

If Garak’s teasing didn’t sound so fond, Julian may have taken offense. It _was_ getting a little tiresome…But for now he just rolled his eyes and returned to a more important point. “You can’t be completely fine with this plan either, Garak. Two naked Humans in a Cardassian bathhouse are hardly inconspicuous.”

Really, it sounded like the plot of a terrible salacious holoprogram, something titled “Poor Hairy Ridgeless Creature,” if he thought for a second something like that was allowed to be produced on Cardassia. But even so, this might be their only opportunity to observe Regnok in public.

“Actually, I think it’s a good way to clear up Parmak’s suspicions about me, to show him I’m entirely Human,” Garak said, far too blasé about the whole thing. But then his playful grin faded. “I’ll admit this plan has more risk involved than I’m comfortable with. But since it seems our best option at the moment, I’m willing to go along. We just need to remain vigilant in case we run into someone who might recognize us.”

 

* * *

 

Somehow Julian had always figured that if he ever saw a naked Cardassian, it would be Garak – either in that physical exam Garak kept dodging, or if by some strange chance Garak became more aggressive with his seduction attempts.

Well, he had seen Garak naked quite a few times by now, but the first _Cardassian_ body he saw ended up being Dr. Parmak’s, followed by an assortment of strangers at the Bhelamy Bathhouse. He had only sneaked a glance at first, noting the spoon-shaped ridges on the chest and lower abdomen and the cloacal slit that must be the _ajan_ –  just out of medical curiosity – but by the time they had made it out of the changing room and into a tub, he had seen enough male Cardassian to satisfy a team of xenobiologists.

Well, that was probably an overstatement, because everyone seemed to be behaving themselves like good and proper Cardassians. He wouldn’t see _everything_ unless he tried seducing one of them, something Garak had discreetly pointed out while they were undressing. The blighter had even gone so far as to suggest Parmak would make a suitable target, as he had shown a preference for unconventional things, before getting an elbow in the ribs. Well deserved.

The tub they had chosen, by Garak’s idle suggestion, was in the back corner of the bathing area near a smaller adjoining room, offering a good view of the changing room door. It was the best tub in the house for their purposes – if anyone they recognized appeared, they could easily slip into the smaller room before being spotted. There hadn’t been anything on Dukat’s work console about a trip to this bathhouse, so they could assume they were safe from a chance encounter with the legate. But as for anyone else on the Council, they couldn’t be certain. Still, it was worth the risk if they could gather more intel on Regnok.

The first thing Julian had noticed upon entering the bathing area, besides the amount of bare scales, was how clean everything looked. But it was Cardassian after all, so it made sense. They had strict rules to keep it that way. All bathers were expected to clean themselves at the sonic showers in the changing room before entering the tubs.

It was a little strange, showering so openly, but there hadn’t been many people in the changing room at the time. It wasn’t until the three emerged into the bathing area, carrying their towels as any good Cardassian would, that heads began to turn. The bathhouse was gender segregated, but that only seemed to make it worse, as most of the men were hardly subtle in their gaping. Julian had glanced over at Garak as they crossed the steam-clouded room, but the man walked as casually as an evening stroll on the Promenade. Julian, on the other hand…well, he was hardly shy in the bedroom, as Garak liked to point out, but that didn’t mean he was accustomed to such public exposure.

But now that he was settled in the bath, the tension was starting to drain from his body. It was actually quite pleasant, if not a little too warm… All right, that spot under the water was definitely too warm. His body would need some time to adjust. But Garak, on the other hand, looked perfectly at home in the bubbling, steaming water, reclining with legs stretched a little too wide, arms propped on the rim of the tub.

Garak caught Julian’s eye with an innocuous grin, then turned his attention to Parmak. “My stepmother would often talk about these bathhouses,” he mentioned conversationally. “It was one of the things she dearly missed from her homeworld.”

“Ah, I imagine I would miss this as well if I ever had to leave,” Parmak mused, inhaling deeply as his eyes fell closed. He had sunk deep into the pool, water rising to nearly his chin as his long hair, usually pulled back, was floating freely around his head “There’s nothing more relaxing than the bathhouse after a long week…” His eyes opened a few moments later, examining his guests. “To a Cardassian, at least. I hope you’re not finding it unbearably warm.”

Only slightly unbearable, Julian decided as he let his body slip in further, immersed in boiling heat. Yes, it might as well have been boiling with all these bubbles. He was starting to feel a little dehydrated, and the least bit guilty as well, looking around at full pools when parts of the city were under tight water restrictions. But what a rude guest he would be if he complained, so he just smiled and said, “It’s a little warmer than I’m used to…”

“Oh yes,” Garak agreed, even as his body sunk deeper. “Terribly warm.”

Julian bumped Garak’s knee under the water, a _try not to look so delighted_ to the incorrigible basking reptile. To Garak’s credit, he did pull himself out a little, but there was no wiping that smile off his face.

“If it becomes too much,” Parmak said, unaware of their silent exchange. “They have cool-down pools in the other room. And if you’d rather dry off, there are heated rocks you can lie on in the sauna.”

The cool-down pools already sounded nice, Julian decided as he spared the nearby room a glance. But as he took note of the sauna’s location, a little room branching off the other end of the main area, Garak seemed to be eyeing it jealously. Probably another excessively warm experience he had missed on DS9. They would have to make sure to drop in before leaving, if their plan allowed. That look of bliss on Garak’s face was quite nice, rivaled only by his post-coital haze, and really, Garak deserved to look like that more often.

Julian drew his gaze around the bathing area, memorizing the layout in all its minute details. Perhaps a bathhouse holoprogram would make a good birthday gift for Garak…if he ever found out when Garak’s birthday was. Then they could _really_ have some fun, a lot more fun than they were having now, bodies entwined under the water, or Garak spread out on the rocks underneath him…Really, Quark’s holosuites offered them a lot more possibilities now…but oh, better not think about that. There was no hiding anything under this water, even with the bubbles.

Garak’s eyes flickered opened as if he sensed his thoughts, catching Julian’s stare. His smile grew a little more than friendly now that Parmak had closed his eyes, and really, that was hardly appropriate. He had been quite businesslike up until now, not a wayward glance or an idle touch as they undressed and huddled inside one of the small sonic shower stalls, with no door or curtain to speak of. It was strange being naked with Garak so casually like this, but hell, the first time they had showered together hadn’t been intimate, so it was possible, even if his body had other plans…

But Parmak’s presence helped keep those thoughts at bay, even with the doctor immersed in his own relaxation. Julian was certainly not rude (or promiscuous) enough to try fooling around in public – he had never considered rolling around the Tarlak Grounds, oh no – especially near the friend who had been kind enough to invite them.

But if Parmak was at all uncomfortable sharing a bath, he was concealing it well, the picture of comfort as he leaned back against the rim and stretched out his legs. Thankfully it was a rather large tub, plenty of room to avoid the awkward brush of limbs.

Well, it was a good thing Julian had taken the time that morning to search his entire body for bite marks, because nothing would hide them now. And there had been quite a few marks on his shoulders and back, even one on his ankle. Garak had a terrible biting habit, it seemed, one that he really would have discouraged if it didn’t send heat to all the right places.

But those were wrong places now, he had to remind himself. So he glanced around the bathing area to keep his mind off those dangerous thoughts, and the eyes he caught worked brilliantly to sober him.

All right, this staring was getting annoying. Even if these people hadn’t seen naked Humans before, weren’t most Cardassians known for their sense of decorum? At least the bathers on Risa had the decency not to stare. These weren’t leering glares, not like the eat-you-alive looks Garak was known for, but they were far from merely curious.

He turned back around to find Parmak still reclining peacefully, probably dozing. “Are you sure it’s all right for us to be in here?” he asked, even as the bathers across the room caught his eye. “We don’t want to get you thrown out.” It was a very nice establishment, located on the border between Tarlak and Paldar, and obviously catered to the elite class – though it was hard to tell just how elite without fine clothing to display their wealth.

Parmak’s eyes flickered open, instantly awake. He noticed Julian’s line of sight and turned slightly, returning the strangers’ stares with a bright smile. “There’s no rule against offworlders if they’ve been invited. You’re my guests,” he assured them, turning back around with a little _sploosh._ “I saw a few Humans here last week…or maybe they were Betazoids. Forgive me, it’s a bit difficult to tell sometimes.”

Garak jumped back into the conversation, quick to assure Parmak it was an understandable mistake, before starting some elaborate story about a Betazoid doctor he once mistook for a Human and quickly regretted. But Julian was only half listening as he turned his head subtly to the left, keeping an eye on the changing room door. Their target might arrive at any moment now.

They had fine-tuned this plan over the past few days, preparing for a few different scenarios, and now it was finally set in motion – at least it would be once Regnok arrived. After that, one of them would need to get close enough to plant the recording device nearby, which was currently tucked away in a secret pocket of Julian’s towel. Parmak had mentioned seeing Regnok here with different assembly members every eighth day of the week, so there was a good chance they would overhear _something_ alluding to war plans.

But there was also a Plan B. Garak had scanned the building with his personal comm while they were in the changing room, locating two surveillance devices in the bathing area – one by the door, and one hidden in the viewscreen on the opposite wall. So if things worked out just right, they might not need to risk getting close enough to plant their own device and utilize the ones already conveniently provided. If so, they would need to return to the changing room to retrieve Garak’s comm from their personal items bin, since anyone caught using their personal comm inside the bathing area was promptly ejected.

But things didn’t always work out just right, as this mission liked to remind Julian, so they would probably need to stick to their first plan. That was why they needed Parmak here, after all, as more than just their ticket into the bathhouse.

Parmak and Garak were still babbling away, something about Edosian orchids and Parmak’s apparent black thumb…How they had strayed from fictious Betazoid doctors to gardening, Julian hadn’t the slightest…but oh, now Garak had mentioned Regnok. Julian turned back to the conversation.

“I usually see him here around this time,” Parmak said. “In that tub over there, talking to a few assembly members. Of course there’s no guarantee he’ll be here today.”

No guarantee, yes, but luck seemed to favor them today. Not ten minutes after Parmak had said that, Julian turned back toward the door to see Councillor Regnok emerge from the changing room, towel draped across his arm. The man beside him didn’t seem aware of his own rudeness in entering a bathhouse fully clothed, but by the way he was walking with his head on a swivel, he was most likely Regnok’s security.

That would make things a bit more difficult, but they had expected as much from a public official. They just needed to be subtle as they watched, Julian limiting himself to only a peripheral view as he turned his head away. Garak was seated in a better position to observe, his body motionless as his eyes tracked their target’s movements. Regnok was crossing the bathing area now, a safe enough distance away that perhaps Julian could snatch another glance.

But Regnok wasn’t stopping at his usual tub, even though it was open. No, he continued to cross the room until he had disappeared through the frosted doors into the adjoining sauna. The clothed man didn’t follow him in, standing outside instead, and after a moment several people exited the sauna.

Julian and Garak exchanged a glance. It was a little strange, not what they had expected, but now might be their only chance to talk to Regnok before the arrival of the assembly members he was probably expecting.

Parmak readily agreed, and after exchanging a few words he and Julian emerged from the bath and began toweling off. Garak, it was decided, would stay back to keep their tub reserved, something he was just devasted to hear as he sank back into the steaming water, a happy sigh escaping his lips. But that was all right with Julian – it showed Garak trusted him to some extent.

Thankfully it was acceptable to wear towels around one’s waist after bathing, something Julian took full advantage of now. It didn’t stop the little glances, especially from the newly arrived patrons, but it helped preserve the last remnants of Julian’s dignity. Yes, that was much better.

And everything was going according to plan until they reached the steam-fogged doors to the sauna. Regnok’s bodyguard stopped them almost immediately, moving to block the entrance.

Parmak, to his credit, remained polite and smiling in his confusion. “Pardon me, I was just going to show my friend here the sauna.”

The man didn’t move. “Councillor Regnok has reserved the sauna for the hour,” he informed impassively. “No guests are allowed without his permission.”

Julian shot Parmak a glance, a silent question about the legality of that action – honestly, with Regnok’s status, it was probably easy to reserve a normally public space – but Parmak was continuing to smile patiently at the guard.

“Ah, well you see, my name is Dr. Parmak, and this here is my colleague Dr. El Fadil.”

Julian didn’t bother extending a palm, but he still offered a friendly, “Pleasure to meet you.” The bodyguard responded with a generic bodyguard glare – something you would see in a holoprogram, really – but then his gaze flicked down to Julian’s bare chest. It was fine when Garak gave him that look, but it was hardly welcome from _this_ gentleman.

Julian shifted slightly, making sure his towel was still securely in place. It seemed Garak’s earlier comments about fetishes weren’t totally fabricated…

“Councillor Regnok is one of my patients at Central Hospital,” Parmak continued, drawing that creepy gaze away from Julian. “I would like to have a word with him, if I may.”

The bodyguard shook his head. “All appointments must be arranged in advance with the councillor’s aide.”

“I understand, and I have put in a request,” Parmak said, still remarkably polite. “But this is a rather pressing matter concerning the soldiers at the hospital. I was hoping the councillor would be able to help.”

Julian chimed in before the guard could issue another refusal, careful to hide his impatience. “As liaison between the Council and Central Command, we figure he’d have an interest in the wellbeing of these soldiers.”

This time the guard’s eyes remained fixed on Parmak, much to Julian’s relief. “If you wish to talk to him, you’ll have to go through the same process as everyone else,” he informed, sounding a bit like a computer voice.

Julian’s gaze flitted between the two Cardassians, an idea forming. “If you’d rather not have a Human in there then all right, I’ll stay outside,” he said, raising his hands conciliatorily. Even if this ended up giving him and Garak nothing, it was only right that Parmak have the chance to address his issues. “But Dr. Parmak will only take a moment, and I’m sure if you asked the councillor, he would – ”

But the bodyguard’s frown was set in stone. “I have my orders, Doctors. Councillor Regnok doesn’t wish to be disturbed by any uninvited guests.”

Parmak looked a little less cheerful now, just a few lines creasing his forehead, but he nodded his adherence all the same. “We understand.” He turned back to Julian with a resigned little smile. “We’ll just have to wait, I suppose.”

Left with no other options, they started back to their tub. “Yes, but can we afford to?” Julian asked, once they were out of range. It was more of a question toward himself, because who knew where Cardassia would be in two to three months, but Parmak answered anyway.

“It’s a tedious process, yes, but we’ll just have to find some sort of workaround. We have no other choice at the moment.”

He was vaguely aware of Parmak’s words as the doctor babbled on – whoever accused Julian of babbling had never met this fellow – describing how they could handle the paperwork more efficiently, but he wasn’t really listening anymore, a little distracted. A strange feeling had raised the hairs on the back of his neck, eerie and alarming like he was being watched. Well, of course he was, he had turned heads since stepping into the bathhouse, but this felt different somehow, goosebumps crawling over his skin.

But when he looked around the bathing area, all he saw were a few curious glances.

Ah well, it was probably just his imagination, just his frustration with the failure of his plan. His hand brushed over the secret pocket in his towel, feeling the little bump of the recording device underneath, but it was useless if they couldn’t get close enough, and who knew how long Regnok would be in the sauna. Perhaps they could wait until he got out, but that bodyguard probably wouldn’t let them near him regardless. And of course the sauna happened to be free of any surveillance devices, so Garak’s personal comm wouldn’t be any help. Perhaps Garak would have a Plan C already conceived and prepared to enact.

Or maybe not. Because now as they approached their tub, Julian looked up to find Garak already out of the water, running a towel over his body, and his smile didn’t seem very bright.

Julian shot him a silent question, and for once received an answer.

“I’m afraid I’m feeling a bit overheated, so if it’s all right with you, dear, I’d like to be going.”

Immediately Julian slipped into doctor mode, examining Garak’s face and body for signs of hyperthermia or dehydration. His skin was a little pink from the warm water, and his fingers and toes were shriveled like prunes, but he didn’t seem to teeter from dizziness, and his eyes didn’t look sunken, and his – oh.

There were two men in the next tub over, watching a little too closely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll admit that setting the trying-to-watch-Regnok-in-public scene in a bathhouse was partially out of fan service, but who says we can't have an obligatory anime bathhouse episode? 
> 
> The bathhouse was heavily inspired by my googling of Japanese bathhouses, since I've never been. And the line about Cardassian fetishes was inspired by ConceptaDecency's [How We Land There](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15723543), which is an amazing little fic.
> 
> Tune in next week for Garak's discovery, Julian's question, and Parmak's concerns.


	30. Daughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian asks Garak a question. Parmak tells Julian about some changes in the government. Rated E.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a short scene in the middle(ish) of this chapter that probably deserves an E rating. The rest is tame.

It was quite nice to be back at the apartment, fully clothed and away from prying eyes. Especially nice since they had taken a longer route home from the bathhouse, getting off at a different shuttle stop and following a circuitous path for the rest of the way. Perhaps it had been unnecessary, since they hadn’t seen anyone who seemed to be following them, but it was best not to take any more chances tonight.

Now that they were home, Garak wasted no time sitting down in front of the console. He had obtained access to some of the Bureau’s files a while ago, so if anything had changed internally regarding the two Humans at Central Hospital, there might be some signs. Julian, in the meantime, was seated at the table gnawing on a ration bar, trying to see over Garak’s shoulder. But as much as he wanted to watch closer, he was terribly hungry – hungry enough to find a ration bar satisfying – and Garak always complained about crumbs on the console controls.

It was a little hard to see the screen from this angle, but Julian was only left guessing for a few moments before he heard a displeased murmur.

“That doesn’t sound good,” he said, slowly lowering the ration bar from his mouth.

Garak’s eyes remained fixed on the screen, fingers flying over the controls. “No, not good for us, anyway,” he returned, a little distracted. “It appears I’ve lost access to the Bureau’s database.”

“All of it?” Julian abandoned his dinner, no longer so hungry, and moved to stand beside Garak.

“All of it. I can’t access a single file.”

That didn’t bode well. Julian frowned, a bit of anxiety tightening in his gut. “So that confirms it, then…”

“Not necessarily.” Garak raised his head briefly, sparing Julian a glance before returning to his work. “It could all just be a coincidence. This may have been caused by a systemwide security overhaul, as is common with classified databases, even when they’re run by an incompetent agency.” A wry smile pulled at his lips, because of course he could never miss an opportunity to mock the Bureau. “And we also don’t know _if_ those men were Bureau agents. I didn’t recognize either of them.”

Julian took a moment to consider it, restless hands falling to his side. It was possible they were being too paranoid, that this wasn’t as catastrophic as he had feared. “You think they were just two average fellows with a Human fetish?” he asked, grinning in spite of himself.  

But Garak didn’t offer a teasing retort, still occupied with his efforts on the console. “It’s always possible…even if they did seem a little too interested,” he said as strings of symbols flashed across the screen. “Yes, it could all be a coincidence, or…”

He didn’t have to finish his thought. Julian knew what it meant if the Bureau had started to look a little too closely. And he knew what Garak would recommend they do if there was even a chance they had been compromised.

“I know what you’re going to say, Garak, but we can’t give up yet,” he said, words nearly tripping over each other in a rush to make his case. “Yes, it’s risky, but too much is riding on these war plans to just walk away. And like you said, it’s not even clear the Bureau is investigating us. Besides, Telma may not even allow me to walk away from this – she did say it’ll become more difficult to leave as the mission progresses, and if she did assign someone else to retrieve the plans, then you wouldn’t be able to –”

“You can save your impassioned arguments, dear,” Garak interrupted, swiveling his chair around to meet his gaze. “For once we are in agreement.”

Julian blinked down at the man. That wasn’t what he had expected.

“Really? Even with the risk?”

Garak pursed his lips thoughtfully, leaning forward in his chair. His gaze was focused on some point in the distance. “I am certainly not pleased with this added risk, but I don’t think it’s high enough to warrant drastic action just yet, especially when we’re short on other options.” His eyes shifted back to Julian, fixing intently. “But there may come a time when the risk _is_ too great, and we must be prepared. From now on we should limit ourselves to the hospital and our apartment. The less we’re seen in public, the better. That may have been necessary anyway, with the unrest that seems to be stirring again.”

“All right,” Julian nodded. “That I can do.” It might make things more difficult, but it was better than giving up. Really, it wasn’t too great a loss, now that it was clear they couldn’t get close enough to Regnok in public. It was probably good that they hadn’t gotten too close at the bathhouse, if those really had been Bureau agents in the other tub.

“And we should also increase our security here,” Garak continued. “I have already made significant modifications to secure our doors, but there are a few more upgrades I can add.”

Julian’s eyes fell shut as his mind turned to calculations, trying to determine just what sort of risk they were in now, even if they had no other choice but continue. But with so many unknown variables, it was hard to estimate. Even their supposed ally was an unknown variable, but it was worth considering…

“What about Telma?” he asked after a moment. “Do you think she’d be any help here?”

Garak shook his head immediately. “I would rather not involve her unless it becomes absolutely clear we must leave Cardassia…and even then, we may find another way.”

Garak paused for a moment, and yes, there was that look. He was calculating, forming some contingency plan in case things went awry. Or at least that’s what Julian hoped.

But then he turned back to the console, sharing none of those thoughts. “In the meantime, I’ll try to adjust my algorithms to compensate for the Bureau’s security update,” he said, fingers tapping rhythmically on the controls. “I’d rather not lose monitoring capabilities for too long.”

Now that Garak was occupied again, Julian’s thoughts had free reign of his mind as he headed for the couch. This wasn’t the end, at least, but that hardly made it less frustrating. He had gone to the bathhouse with high hopes of obtaining something, some minor clue to point them in the direction of Regnok’s plans, but they hadn’t even gotten close enough. And now they probably wouldn’t, at least not for a while. And who knew how long they could afford to wait.

And it was _his_ plan that had failed – no, not only failed. It had drawn too much attention to them, and his carelessness may have cost them this time. It didn’t matter how much thought he had put into it – not some half-baked scheme like when he had followed Dukat – because it was now just another attempt to add to his list of failures on this mission.  

And with that realization, another thought nudged its way to the front of his mind. Yes, he knew that Garak was being excessively harsh during their last major argument, that he was just trying to push Julian away out of fear, but those words stuck with him regardless, clinging to the back of his mind for moments such as these.

He let out a sigh and plopped down on the couch with a thud. “You were right, you know.”

“Which time?” Garak asked absently, tapping away.

“When you said I wasn’t an intelligence agent. That’s become perfectly clear.”

Garak must have heard the frustration in his voice, or seen the defeated look on his face – he wasn’t trying to hide either at this point – because he was soon rising from the console and coming to Julian’s side.

“These setbacks are quite common in this profession,” he said, sitting beside him, and there was that patient little smile he liked to wear when explaining such “simple” concepts to his naïve doctor. “Don’t take them so personally, dear. You can’t expect every plan to work.”

“But at least _some_ of my plans have to work, don’t they?” Julian shot back. Really, he was in no mood for one of Garak’s speeches about the operative life. “Eavesdropping on Dukat had been a lucky accident, but besides that I’m just stumbling blindly through this mission.”

Garak blinked, his smile falling a little flat. “Am I stumbling beside you, then?” He wouldn’t let Julian reply before continuing. “I agreed to your idea because I thought it was worth pursuing, at least until Ilya Regnok’s appointment. It was actually quite clever how you enlisted Parmak’s aid.”

No, even with Garak’s affectionate smile returning, Julian was hardly convinced.

Garak let out a little breath, shaking his head. “I didn’t want to tell you this, my dear, for fear of stroking your enormous ego, but I’ve been impressed with your improvement during this mission. You’ve become less trusting, more adaptable, and calmer under pressure – or perhaps you’ve just learned to control this treacherous face.” He tapped the wrinkles on Julian’s forehead affectionately. “But you can’t expect perfection in such a short amount of time, especially given the unusual circumstances of this assignment. With enough training, I think you would make an excellent operative.”

Julian eyed Garak’s grin suspiciously. As lovely as that warm smile was, and as much as he would like to believe Garak’s assessment, it wasn’t like that Cardassian to be so artlessly kind. Usually his affection was veiled behind several more insults than the ones he had half-heartedly thrown together this time.

“You’re not just lying to get in my trousers, are you?”

“Such accusations, dear,” Garak tutted, his grin completely innocent. But then the teasing smirk faded, a firm and unusual sincerity touching his features. “But I can assure you, my dear, I’m quite serious. Your tenacity is an enviable quality, albeit a little inconvenient at times.” Ah, there was that teasing, as if he didn’t want to inflate Julian’s ego any more than necessary. “Probes in the Obsidian Order were put through vigorous training before ever receiving their first assignment – far more training than you’ve received. It took me years to hone my skills, and even before my formal education, Tain had begun to prepare me.”

Julian was quickly losing the battle with his smile, because who could argue with such rare praise? Not him, especially when this conversation had taken an interesting turn…

“You went to a spy academy?”

And there went that lovely affectionate grin, fading into a thin line. “No, my dear, I attended the Bamarren Institute for State Intelligence.”

“So a spy academy.”

Garak continued like he hadn’t spoken. “An arduous nine-year program, but far more effective than Starfleet Intelligence, it seems.” He made himself quite comfortable for his storytelling, leaning back into the couch cushions with an arm draped over Julian’s shoulder. “Our old lives – the people we had been – were broken down, and we were reconstructed, body and mind, into the ideal security operatives. Even the use of our own names was forbidden.”

“Sounds like a charming place.”

Garak frowned. “If you’re going to mock, my dear, I might as well stop telling you things.”

He was probably joking, that frown far too close to a pout, but Julian apologized anyway, leaning into Garak’s touch. “No, I’m sorry, please continue. I like hearing your stories.” Even if he still didn’t know how true they were. “There’s still so much I don’t know about you.”

Garak smiled down at Julian, and it really wasn’t fair how he had the height advantage when they were seated. “What would you like to know?”

Well, that was new. He hadn’t expected such a willingness to share…Garak was certainly in a peculiar mood tonight. He might as well take advantage of it.

“Well, I have always wanted to know why you were exiled. The _real_ reason.”

“Ah, but my dear,” Garak tutted, his smile never faltering. “If I laid all my secrets bare right now, what would be the fun of that? What would you have to look forward to?”

That was more like it. Julian smiled the smile of a longsuffering partner, shaking his head. Garak still liked to play these games – that wouldn’t change, no matter how many times they touched and kissed. But that was all right. They still had some time to figure this out.

And in the meantime, there were several other things they could enjoy together, things that suddenly sounded very appealing thanks to that wicked grin on Garak’s face, still smiling down at him. He would have to fix that.

So he climbed onto Garak’s lap, straddling his hips, and there, that was better. He was the taller one again. “I suppose I’ll just have to peel you layer by layer…” he murmured, working on the clasps of Garak’s tunic. “…until I finally see the real Elim Garak.”

All right, that was a bit cheesy, but definitely not the worst line he had ever used.

“Am I not real?” Garak blinked up at him, offering neither help nor resistance to Julian’s fumbling hands.

“You know what I mean,” Julian huffed, the clasps finally coming undone. He pulled the shirt up over Garak’s head, casting it quickly aside. “I just want to understand you more.”

Garak’s eyes looked a little lust-darkened now, just how Julian liked them. “You already know far too much about me…” he murmured, hands cupping Julian’s arse, offering a little squeeze. “Which makes you dangerous.”

He didn’t even have to glance downward to know that Garak was just as eager for this, finding a hard bulge pressing against his own trapped erection, grinding until Garak let out a little hiss. “I suppose I _do_ know how to make you come undone.”

Such impertinence deserved a slap on the arse, it seemed. But oh, foolish Elim, didn’t he know that would only encourage him?

“Yes, but those tricks will only work for so long…” Garak said, trying to keep steady against Julian’s shameless rutting. “I won’t be Human forever.”

“Then I’ll learn new tricks.”

But for now, the old ones would do quite nicely.

 

* * *

 

Despite their worries, the next few days passed without any catastrophes – well, Julian’s hair was always a catastrophe these days as the summer grew more humid, but at least frizzy hair wouldn’t get him arrested. They kept to their new arrangement, avoiding all public outings besides their commute, and no one seemed to bother them. They didn’t catch any more curious eyes.

Not much seemed to change – no new threats, no new breakthroughs. It was a little frustrating to be stuck in another standstill, biding their time until Ilya Regnok’s appointment. But even so, it was impossible to become bored with such wonderful distractions at their disposal.

And all right, perhaps they were engaging in said distractions a little too often – Garak would regularly claim so before attacking Julian’s neck – but they really couldn’t help it. They were still in the honeymoon phase of this relationship, Garak’s silly pajamas notwithstanding, and their desire for each other hadn’t decreased, not when there were so many new elements to explore.

Julian had always enjoyed this phase, all the smiles and flirtatious banter and kisses and sex – quite a lot of sex. And yes, part of him did desire to move things beyond the physical – how could he not, with such a mysterious man as a partner? – but sex had been so good that there wasn’t too much idle time to think about it. Any questions that came up – and there were a few interesting ones – didn’t seem all too important when Garak fixed him with _the look._

He was, after all, learning a few new things about Garak’s body – his human body, to be specific, but some of that had to transfer. They had already moved beyond any awkward uncertainty, falling into their dance with graceful ease. Repetition was key, after all – but not _too_ much, of course. They had experimented with quite a few variations to keep things interesting.

Of course the honeymoon phase wouldn’t last forever – with their combined issues, things were bound to get complicated – but as Julian lay under Garak’s sweat-slick body, knees hitched and legs spread wide to receive Garak’s offering (or maybe _he_ was the offering), it didn’t seem like anything they couldn’t overcome.

Oh, but right now he was the one being overcome, waves of desire surging through his body as Garak pounded into him, a little harder this time, picking up the pace as if he could read Julian’s mind – that, or those distant, panted-out pleas were coming from _his_ mouth. But Garak seemed just as overcome, if his own moans meant anything – full-throated and desperate, no longer any restraints, eyes shut and head thrown back in beautiful agony.

And those sounds were just what Julian needed to intensify his pleasure, pumping his cock faster as he arched up to meet Garak’s thrusts, watching his lover gasp and writhe above him, and oh, now the sounds he was hearing were his own, high and desperate as he moaned out his bliss, dangerously close to the edge of release.

“Ah, Elim, _fuck –_ ”

But then there was a hand pressed over his mouth and a man frowning down at him.

“My dear…do you want the entire building to hear?” Garak scolded, as stern as he could sound with his cock buried in a tight arse.

And honestly, Julian didn’t care if the entire city heard him right now, because Garak’s cock was sending electric jolts through his prostate as he continued to snap his hips, and his own hand was wringing such wonderful sensations.

And _really_ , Garak was hardly one to talk.

But he would try to be good, try to bite back his moans and swallow his cries, just soft little whimpers under Garak’s hand.

But oh, then Garak’s shifting eyes locked back onto him and there was a rush of warm liquid inside him, and no, he really couldn’t hold back anymore, not as his own orgasm pulsed through him, moaning and sobbing and biting the ball of Garak’s hand. But Garak refused to release him, even as he trembled through his own aftershocks, hand firmly in place until all of Julian’s ejaculate had spilled onto his hand and belly.

Garak drew back his poor hand with a chastising look – but really, it was his fault for putting it so close to Julian’s teeth – before his smile returned and he collapsed onto his lover, laughing through ragged breaths. Julian let out an _oof_ , trying to adjust to the weight that had been unceremoniously dumped on him, but it was a little impossible to be annoyed right now.

“Well, that was a bit more pleasant than the last time I was bitten there,” Garak chuckled, lazy and satisfied. He decided to be merciful this time, shifting so he was no longer crushing Julian’s hand – a hand that was still fondling Julian’s messy cock, easing it back into its flaccid state. Julian’s other arm was still thrown above his head on the pillow – however it had ended up there – giving Garak the perfect place to rest his head and curl up against him.   

And everything was blissful and hazy for a moment, slowly easing down from their highs, until Julian realized what Garak was doing – _inhaling,_ his face buried in Julian’s armpit.

He quickly pushed Garak’s head away, shifting uncomfortably.

“Is something the matter, dear?” Garak blinked up at Julian with wide, innocent eyes, the picture of confusion.

“You were smelling my armpit, Elim,” Julian retorted, his laughs a little breathless.

“Oh, have I broken some Human taboo?”

“No, I’ve just never had anyone interested in my armpit sweat.” He was no stranger to fetishes – lovers had often accused him of having some – but not like this. “It’s a little strange.”

“Not to me, dear,” Garak insisted, grinning like the cat who got the cream. “Your scent is intoxicating.”

All right, maybe he shouldn’t deny Garak this, not when Cardassians were such olfactory-inclined people, so he raised his arm back up to let Garak indulge himself – still, it was strange.

They remained that way, Garak happily basking in his lover’s sweat, for a few more minutes until the Cardassian’s cleanliness took over and forced him out of Julian’s arms. They never cuddled for long after sex, Garak always insisting on cleaning up, but sometimes if Garak was feeling lazy enough, and it wasn’t too hot, Julian could coax him back into bed with only a little begging – but only because Garak so liked to hear him say please.

But today, it seemed he was feeling unusually generous – or sleepy – because he fell back into Julian’s arms without any demands. He had even forgotten to pull on his pajamas, much to Julian’s delight.

“I think we’re getting better at that,” Julian murmured, shifting on his side to press up against Garak’s back, arms wrapping around his middle. At first he hadn’t been sure how Garak would respond to this, playing the role of the little spoon, but he never seemed to mind too terribly.

Garak wiggled a little to make himself comfortable, relaxing back into the warmth molded around him. “Yes, my dear, but there is always room for improvement, so I suggest we continue our rigorous practice regimen for the time being.”

He couldn’t argue with that.

But now that the endorphins were beginning the fade, the haze parted to let previous thoughts push back into Julian’s mind. Damnit. These thoughts always seemed to find him when he was unoccupied these days, all thanks to a particular shade of blue he had noticed in the isolation ward.

But perhaps he _should_ consider them now. They were just questions, after all. He knew nothing for certain. And now, as Garak lay sleepy and pliant in his arms, breathing in harmony with the shelter of darkness around them, a closer connection than he ever thought possible – well, maybe Garak would be willing to give him some answers.

After all, Garak had been opening up to him lately, in his slow, subtle way.

“Elim?” he asked, a whisper away from Garak’s ear.

“Mm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Mm.”

“Is Kel your daughter?”

Garak no longer felt so pliant.

“You certainly know how to change the mood, Julian.”

The air hung thick for a long moment, tension gripping the body in Julian’s arms, before a soft sigh broke the silence.

“But I’m afraid you’ve jumped to some peculiar conclusions this time.”

Julian opened his mouth, then shut it, then opened it again. He had already put it out there, and no amount of tongue-biting could take it back now. He wanted _some_ answer at least, after how strangely Garak had been acting, none of this obfuscation he had hoped they were past. Besides, Garak’s behavior was beginning to affect Julian’s productivity at the hospital, so even if this did dampen the mood, it had to be discussed. And sometimes with Garak, the direct approach was your only option.

“Then why have you been avoiding the isolation ward ever since she was admitted?”

Garak shifted ever so slightly. “I have already apologized for my busy schedule.”

But a busy schedule wouldn’t explain everything. “Then it must just be a coincidence that your schedule became so busy after you met Kel’s mother, and even busier after that conversation with Kel,” Julian said, letting a smile curl his lips. He tried to keep his voice warm and the mood light, show some tact, or Garak might completely withdraw and refuse to answer him. “I remember what an old friend once said about coincidences.”

“Sometimes I forget how well you’ve been taught, my dear.” It was difficult to tell what Garak was thinking – well, more difficult than usual – with his back to Julian, but the tension hadn’t left his body, even if his voice sounded as pleasant as usual. At least he hadn’t withdrawn from Julian’s arms.

But Garak didn’t choose to elaborate, and really, if it was true, it was probably not something he would easily admit. From the bit of research Julian had done on Palandine Lokar – for medical reasons, of course – it seemed she had been married to a politician who had passed away about six years ago, but the cause of his death wasn’t listed. So it had most likely been an affair, but really, that wasn’t the worst thing in the world to be guilty of, even if you were under some strict operative code that forbade attachments.

“You can tell me, Elim,” Julian urged, giving Garak’s belly a gentle pat. “I realize Cardassian culture is different, but on Earth we have a very openminded view of different family structures. Why, I had a few friends at the Academy who had –”

“Kel is not my daughter, Julian.”

“Oh.”

Garak’s voice remained steady, not nearly as irritated as Julian expected him to be. “And before you let your curiosity run away with you, her genetic testing has already confirmed that.”

Julian’s arms fell loose from Garak’s body. The thought _had_ crossed his mind, but he hadn’t entertained it for long, because that would be highly unethical as a doctor, and rudely suspicious as a lover.

“Which is very fortunate for her,” Garak added, his voice soft in the darkness.

Julian frowned. “Elim.”

“Oh no, do not mistake that for some show of insecurity or self-deprecation. I only mean that she might not have lived this long if she were…that.”

Well, that did make some sense, if the incident with Rugal had taught Julian anything. But that still didn’t answer every question…

“Do you know what happened to her father?” he asked softly.

“Something unfortunate.”

Garak was clearly uncomfortable now, the air growing more strained between them. He had better drop it now before this went too far… but the mood had already been ruined, it seemed. Garak felt stiff against Julian’s body.

So he offered Garak some space, rolling over onto his back to contemplate the ceiling. It was always like this with Garak – his answers, when he chose to give them, would only lead to more questions. Because Julian really couldn’t be certain if Garak was telling the truth here, or lying to protect Kel.

And honestly, if Kel was Garak’s daughter, he wasn’t sure what that would mean for their relationship, now that he really thought about it. But as far as he knew, Garak wasn’t making any efforts to see Palandine – quite the opposite, actually. And really, there was no need to be jealous, not when he himself had quite the history of lovers. Garak was certainly careful enough not to jeopardize their mission by revealing his identity to either Kel or Palandine, so there was really no reason for him to be worried.

Yes, he would respect Garak’s privacy, and whatever the truth of the matter was, it really didn’t change a thing for Julian.

“I’ll do whatever I can to cure her, Elim.”

 

* * *

 

He awoke the next morning feeling a bit strange. His back wasn’t covered in sweat, for one, and there were no greedy Cardassian arms wrapped around him, basking in his warmth. The bed was empty beside him.

But that really didn’t mean anything, and was certainly no reason to start worrying. He sat up in bed and scrubbed at his eyes, trying to focus his mind. Garak would occasionally rise early to work on the console before their shift, so it wasn’t too unusual. And besides, he could hear Garak puttering around in the bathroom, so it was clear he hadn’t gone anywhere.

Still, as Julian started preparing for the day, he couldn’t help but wonder if he had caused it. He might have pried too deeply last night, and maybe that had been a mistake. But really, he hadn’t meant any offense – with the way things had been progressing in their relationship, the closeness their physical intimacy had been forming, he had just expected Garak to be a little more open. Perhaps that was expecting too much.

It didn’t take him long to make himself presentable, thanks to this recent decision he had made, so he had plenty of time to replicate a nice Cardassian breakfast, just to ensure Garak was in a good mood. Fresh food would have been nicer, but now that the market was off limits, they would have to make do.

Garak must have smelled the _yamok_ sauce, because not one minute after Julian had spread out the food, Garak appeared with a growling stomach, greeting him with the usual brightness. They were off to a good start, at least.

Garak took a seat across from him, eyeing the _ikri_ buns with particular interest, before he raised his gaze to Julian, eyes lingering a little longer than normal. “Aren’t you forgetting something, dear?”

“Hmm?” Julian asked around a mouthful of _taspar_ eggs.

Garak tapped his chin. “Your fur.”

“Oh, that.” He shrugged with little concern, taking another bite. “I’ve actually decided to grow out my beard. Makes me less recognizable.” It wasn’t the most pleasant experience right now, already begging to be scratched, but it had to be done.

“And less pleasant to kiss.”

Julian looked up from his breakfast to find a very offended Cardassian, as if this decision was a personal insult, but he knew that glimmer in Garak’s eyes well enough not to be worried. “Is that a threat, Elim?” he challenged, not very threatening with that lopsided grin.

Garak held his gaze over a sip of _gelat._ “Take it as you wish, dear.”

“Then I’ll take it as a bluff. You like kissing me far too much to give it up.”

Naturally, Garak had to scoff at such wild accusations. “Excessive kissing isn’t a very Cardassian practice, dear. We prefer other demonstrations of affection.”

“Maybe it’s not, but it’s still a very Garak practice. Don’t lie.” He pointed his fork, a piece of egg still stuck on the end. “I know you enjoy it.”

“Ridiculous. I only tolerate it to placate you.”

“Oh dear,” Julian murmured, very concerned with this new information. He stood up and moved to his lover’s side, the poor man he had been traumatizing for weeks now. “The things I’ve put you through…” So many kisses, just like the one he was giving him now, scraping his stubble against Garak’s cheek.

But Garak pulled away before he could really enjoy it, fixing him with an absolutely petulant glare.

“Poor Elim.”

The rest of the morning continued in the same teasing fashion, and even continued in a more subdued manner on the shuttle to the hospital, Garak taking his revenge with a few well-timed remarks. But that was fine – better than fine, actually – because at least their relationship hadn’t changed like Julian had feared. He would gladly take a few insults to his hair over polite detachment.

By the time they made it to Julian’s office, they were both satisfied to call it a draw, especially once the morning ‘casts grabbed their attention. News from Torr, it seemed – a dissident had been arrested last night, caught protesting openly in the Central Market. It had ended violently, as the newscaster was pleased to inform, but the man was still alive and in custody. They even showed footage of the incident, in surprisingly graphic detail – a warning to any pesky dissidents who might be growing too bold.

Julian’s workload turned out to be a little lighter today, with all his patients in stable conditions, so he finally had more time to immerse himself in research. He seemed to be making some progress again, and if he just devoted enough time and effort, he knew a breakthrough would happen soon or later. So he holed himself up in his office and only took a break for lunch. He didn’t usually like to pause his research, preferring a quick bite at the console, but this might be important – Parmak had invited him to share lunch in his office.

He had invited Garak too, but Garak had regretfully declined, promising a _kotra_ match next week to make amends. He then explained, pulling Julian back into his office, that it was better if Julian go alone, since Parmak seemed to trust him more. An invitation like that, he said, may have a deeper motive, and might offer them some useful information.

But perhaps Garak had expected too much, because Julian and Parmak were now fifteen minutes into their lunch and nothing. Honestly, it was possible Parmak had just invited him for a friendly conversation about homeopathic medical theories and neo-conformist art sculptures, which were all very interesting, but not exactly what he was hoping for. His mind was beginning to wander as he sipped his _gelat_ , noticing how much cleaner Parmak’s office looked since the last time he had seen it, when Parmak suddenly leaned a bit closer, his smile fading.

“Do you and Nurse Robinson still live in East Torr?” Parmak asked, waiting for Julian’s nod to continue. “Then I must warn you to be careful.”

Julian set down his mug and leaned closer. It was probably still safe in Parmak’s office, but he lowered his voice just to be certain. “Why, did something happen?” Scenes from last night’s arrest flashed through his mind.

“Not yet, but I’ve heard some disturbing news.” All the brightness was gone from Parmak’s face, replaced with deep lines of worry. “If Rejal has her way, the city constabularies will soon be absorbed by the Central Command, and Torr will become their top priority.”

“What?” And for a moment Julian’s careful control slipped, shock flashing openly across his face. Really, Garak would have been disappointed by that, but he had other things to focus on right now. “Where did you hear that? I didn’t see anything on the casts…”

Parmak shook his head gravely. “And you likely won’t. I doubt they’ll make an official announcement of what is bound to be an unpopular decision.” He took a moment to dab his lips, leaving Julian in cruel suspense, before elaborating. “I heard this from Alon Ghemor, head of the Cardassian Intelligence Bureau, when I paid him a house call yesterday evening. He strongly opposes it, but I’m afraid that won’t be enough to convince Rejal, not when Legate Dukat and Councillor Regnok are promising her complete control of the constabularies. She has already ousted Chief Commissioner Bamarek, and Ghemor is considering resigning out of protest.”

Julian took a moment to consider his words, chewing absently on his cheek. Really, it was hard to sympathize with Alon Ghemor because even if he was shocked by this decision, he had contributed to it when he refused to investigate Pa’Dar’s death. Still, he was having a hard time wrapping his mind around how such a decision could be implemented.

“I don’t know much about Cardassian law,” he said, looking back up. “But surely it can’t be legal for the military to take over all law enforcement operations.”

“Apparently it is now, thanks to a vaguely-worded clause in Councillor Regnok’s recent law. And Ghemor thinks there’s enough support in the Assembly to authorize it.”

With the way Regnok and Dukat seemed to be courting the Assembly’s favor, that was very likely. And if this passed, who knew what the next step in Dukat’s plan would be, now that a major obstacle had been eliminated. With the constabularies at his command, who would be left to oppose him? Unarmed dissidents? God, they were running out of time.

But he had to keep the anxiety off his face, quickly swallowing it before Parmak looked too closely. “What does this mean for the city, exactly?”

Parmak had enough anxiety on his face for the both of them, it seemed. “I’m not sure,” he sighed, running his finger over an eye ridge. “The constabularies were under Order control before the Detapa Council regained power. But I can imagine things will become much more violent with Central Command pulling the strings.” He slumped back in his chair and took a moment to contemplate the wall behind Julian, leaving his half-eaten stew to grow cold. “To be honest, this troubles me deeply. As long as most of the military was offworld fighting the war, I felt some safety from Central Command’s overreach, even with the policing power Rejal granted them. But with another department under their command, I can’t imagine what might become of this city. We may see many more Torr massacres.”

Julian’s hands began to fidget under the table, no longer able to contain his restlessness, because Parmak was right, and they needed to do something soon, but how could they when they couldn’t get close enough to Regnok? He couldn’t voice any of these concerns, of course, because it just wasn’t safe to involve Parmak – and by how distraught Parmak looked now, that was probably for the best.

So he searched for a faint glimmer of hope, anything that might ease some of Parmak’s worries. “Well, we can at least hope that the decent people left within the constabularies will rebel against Central Command’s orders, like they’ve rebelled against Rejal,” he pointed out. “They aren’t soldiers, after all, and there has to be _some_ who won’t stand for this.”

“And they’ll be swiftly dealt with, I’m sure,” Parmak answered sullenly. It was strange how defeated this normally optimistic doctor looked, shoulders slumped and face lined with shadows as his dreams for Cardassia continued to shatter. But as much as Julian wanted to promise that there was hope, that he and Garak would stop Dukat from destroying his homeworld, he held his tongue.

At length Parmak met his gaze, shaking off some of the gloom. “You should avoid the streets of Torr as much as you can. If violence breaks out, they might not care that you’ve been sanctioned by Foreign Affairs.” He paused for a moment, eyeing his forgotten lunch, before looking back up. “I have an old skimmer you and Nurse Robinson can borrow for your commute. It’ll be safer than taking the shuttle.”

A small smile crept onto Julian’s face, chasing away some of his worries. Yes, that would help with their other concerns as well. They had felt far too exposed on the shuttle in recent days, now that the Bureau might be watching them.

He allowed his sincerity to shine fully on his face as he relayed his thanks to the doctor, a little touched by Parmak’s concerns for their safety.

They were able to finish their lunch after that (once Parmak had retrieved fresh stew from the replicator), lightening the tone with some humorous medical anecdotes. By the time they were finished, their moods had been salvaged, both bright and relaxed until Julian turned to leave. Parmak stopped him by the door and fixed him with a serious intensity.

“I hope you two will be careful, Dr. El Fadil.”

“You as well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I'd love to hear what you guys think! 
> 
> I didn't realize how fluffy this chapter was until I was proofreading it, so I hope your teeth aren't rotting too terribly. Maybe I'll kill some people soon to balance it out. 
> 
> Tune in next week for the return of a familiar face.


	31. Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian gets an unexpected visitor at the hospital.

“It makes me curious why this information didn’t come from Telma,” Garak said once the apartment door had shut behind them.

Their new (slightly dilapidated) skimmer had several benefits, they were pleased to find – and no, not what Julian had tried initiating after they had climbed aboard in the hospital skimmer park, because the dark windows didn’t offer enough cover for Garak’s comfort, and he was still curious to hear how Julian had managed to procure this for their use. But it did give them another private area where it was safe to discuss confidential matters (once Garak had debugged it), which made the slow commute much more productive. By the time they had arrived at the apartment, Julian had already recounted his conversation with Parmak and had launched into discussing what it might mean for them.

“Unless, of course, she’s using Parmak as her mouthpiece again,” Garak added, hanging up his dust mask for perhaps the last time. With their skimmer they really wouldn’t need to walk out in public anymore.

Julian took a moment to consider Garak’s idea, but it didn’t seem likely. Telma had only communicated that way at the beginning when he had assumed Parmak was his contact, dropping just enough bits of gossip around Parmak to continue the charade. She must have enjoyed that.

“He said he heard it from Alon Ghemor, and I don’t think he would lie about that.” Julian set down his precarious stack of research on the table in front of the couch, not dropping a single padd despite Garak’s many warnings.

Garak pulled a contemplative face as he turned to Julian, pushing out his lower lip. “Yes, I suppose he does lack the ingenuity for that…”

“But he’s been more help to us lately than Telma,” Julian pointed out. Telma might not even know this information yet, and if that was the case, he wasn’t going to volunteer anything. “He’s certainly more honest, and he seems just as opposed to Rejal and Dukat as we are. I’d rather involve him than Telma, but it’s just too much of a risk to him after what those assembly members said…”

But Garak seemed to think that idea deserved a scoff. “Honesty is hardly a good quality in an operative, my dear,” he said from the replicator, retrieving an evening cup of _gelat._ “That man will divulge his secrets to anyone who asks nicely.”

Julian rolled his eyes. Really, Garak seemed to take a particular pleasure in criticizing Parmak, which was completely unfounded. If anything, Parmak had every reason to criticize Garak, if only he knew it…

“It’s called sharing, Elim. Maybe you should try it more often.” Oh, perhaps he shouldn’t have said that. His tone was light and teasing, but after the tension between them last night…

But there was still that gleam of amusement in Garak’s eyes as he turned back to Julian, even if his frown looked far from impressed. “I’m not going to share you, if that’s what you mean.”

All right, that deserved another eye roll. “You know it’s not,” he returned, a treacherous smile tugging at his frown. “Really, I can’t understand why you don’t like Dr. Parmak. He’s one of the sweetest Cardassians I’ve met here.” That perception had been growing on him for a while, but Parmak’s actions today had solidified it.

“Well of course you would think so,” Garak tutted. “It’s like looking in a mirror for you.”

“Excuse me?”

But Garak had turned away now, heading for the console, and as much as Julian liked to admire that arse, he did not appreciate being shown it in the middle of a conversation. He was soon by Garak’s side.

“Oh, please, Julian, the similarities are obvious,” the Cardassian drawled, taking a seat. “You’re both overly compassionate doctors with a tendency to ramble, terrible taste in literature, and the same idealistic philosophies and radical political views.”

“Well if he’s so much like me, then why don’t you like him?”

“The universe just isn’t ready for another Julian Bashir.”

There was that twinkle in Garak’s eyes again, teasing and mischievous, and as much as he might criticize Parmak, Julian had a sneaking suspicion that he might be warming to the “radical” doctor.

So he tried to match Garak’s grin – as cunning and reptilian as he could make it – as he settled himself face-to-face on Garak’s lap, straddling his thighs with just the least bit of distance between their crotches. “I’m that hard to handle, hm?”

But now Garak’s grin was taking on a wolfish quality – he really seemed to love a bold Julian – as he curled an arm around Julian’s waist, pressing that grin to Julian’s neck. “You have no idea, dear,” he murmured against Julian’s goosebumps. “The things you do to me…”

Oh, but he wouldn’t be distracted quite so easily. “So you’re saying you don’t like Parmak because he makes you weak in the knees?”

That deserved a stern bite – two, actually. “I said no such thing!”

“Should I be jealous?” Julian laughed as Garak soothed the wound, dragging his tongue over the abused skin. God, that tickled, but he refused to squirm on his lover’s lap.

“Should _I_?” Garak hooked his fingers underneath Julian’s collar and pulled it down, revealing a fresh patch of skin waiting to be bitten. “You’re the one who keeps singing his praises.”

Julian bit back a sigh as Garak nibbled down to the crook of his neck, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a moan. “Well if you want me singing your praises, Elim, you’re going to have to try a lot harder than that.”

It seemed Garak _could_ make short work of a garment when he applied himself, because not one second after his deft fingers started on Julian’s clasps was his shirt pulled up over his head and discarded.

“Oh?” Garak murmured, sultry and guttural, as he planted a trail of kisses down Julian’s chest. “Should I denounce the State, then? Or make some impassioned plea for democracy on Cardassia? Or whine about the universe’s injustices, perhaps?” He took a nipple between his lips, just a clever little flick of the tongue, but no, Julian wouldn’t succumb so easily. “…Or I could just deposit you in a heap on the floor and continue adjusting these algorithms.” His grip tightened threateningly around Julian’s waist.

But Julian wasn’t worried. “Oh, I don’t think you’d do that. You’re not one to back down from a challenge,” he said, even as he propped his hands on the console behind him and leaned back – but it wasn’t to give his lover easier access to his abdomen, not at all. He had been far too generous lately. He would _really_ make Garak work for it this time.

And he didn’t make a sound when Garak continued kissing down his body, as low as he could reach in their current position. And he remained strong when Garak unzipped his pants to fondle and free his erection, wrapping a saliva-slicked hand around the shaft and finding a steady rhythm. And he persisted, even when Garak slipped his own cock out and took both erections in one fist, sliding them together in erotic harmony. But when Garak started pumping faster and faster, pinching a nipple and sighing Julian’s name, all dears and darlings and other honeyed endearments, he could no longer stay strong, could no longer stay silent, head falling back as he crooned a sweet falsetto ballad for the magnificence of Garak’s hand.

 

* * *

 

Garak was in one of his moods again, and as much as Julian enjoyed a good bout of sarcastic banter, it wasn’t as amusing when it interrupted his research. He had been in the middle of analyzing the results of his latest clinical trial when Garak barged into his office, demanding treatment for an “obscene” red mark on his neck, something Garak hadn’t even noticed until an idle comment from Telma alerted him to its existence.

“I don’t know why you had to come to me for this,” Julian huffed, running the dermal regenerator over the mortal wound. “I know you know how to use a dermal regenerator.”

“Yes, but it’s a little difficult to see the bruise,” Garak retorted, shifting under Julian’s ministrations. Julian clamped a hand on his shoulder, holding him still.

“You just enjoy being fussy.”

“Really, dear, it’s only fair you treat the wound that _you_ inflicted on me.”

A wicked grin tugged at Julian’s mouth, his only attempt at penance for the crimes he had committed last night. But really, after all that Garak had made him endure, he had no grounds for complaint. “I have to do this to the marks you give me almost every morning.”

“Well forgive me for not being accustomed to such fragile skin,” Garak said drily, rolling his eyes. “It’s ridiculous how easily it bruises.”

Oh dear. If Julian didn’t intervene soon, Garak would launch into another rant about the inferiority of Human bodies, rehashing the same tired arguments he had been using for over a month. “You have to admit that there are _some_ benefits to this skin. I know you’re aware of how sensitive everything is.” He ran a finger over the newly healed skin, eliciting the perfect little shiver.

“Oh, but if you only knew what it feels like to have someone’s mouth on your neck ridges,” Garak murmured, and he no longer sounded so crotchety, his voice smooth and wistful and nearly a purr. “Your _kinat’hU_ licked and sucked and worried between teeth.”

And yes, perhaps Julian would indulge him with a few kisses, even if he was the most insufferable Cardassian he had the pleasure of knowing, but one, two – no _three_ was definitely enough for now. They were at the hospital after all, where anyone could walk in at any moment, so anything more would be terribly unprofessional. So he did what any proper doctor would do and shooed his persnickety patient out the door.

Left with no more distractions, he turned eagerly back to his research. But he had only just found where he had left off when he noticed Garak’s sanitary mask on the table. Really, that man was far too distracted these days if he, a former Obsidian Order agent, was starting to forget things.

But as he was about to call Garak over his wrist comm, his door chimed.

He moved to open it, smiling and shaking his head. “You don’t have to ring the chime, Andy, you’ve barged in here plenty of –”

Except it wasn’t Garak standing in the hallway with a playful grin and some teasing quip. It was someone shorter, younger, with far more ridges – someone he recognized instantly.

Rugal.

“Hello, Doctor. Sorry to disturb you, but could I have a word?”

He certainly could, but if Julian could manage to return those words was another matter entirely, because his mind had suddenly and inexplicably drawn a blank.

But then he shook his head and the questions came pouring back in, worries and fears and all sorts of conclusions waiting to be jumped to, but he had to ignore them all, had to plaster the friendliest, most natural smile on his face as he addressed the young man shifting awkwardly at his door.

“Of course, come in.”

And he kept all the tension from his shoulders, all the nervous energy from his body as he led the boy inside his office. He glanced down at the sanitary mask in his hand, but no, it was no use putting that on now. And really, this was no reason to start worrying yet, and certainly no reason to panic. Rugal was probably here for some very legitimate medical reason.

Yes, he would treat him like any other patient, Julian decided as he cleared off a place for Rugal at his research table. “You’re Rugal Pa’Dar, right?” he asked casually, gathering a few padds. “We met about three weeks ago at the free hospital in Torr, if I recall.”

Rugal took the seat that was offered, slipping off his sanitary mask. “Actually, I remember meeting you three years ago on Deep Space 9, Dr. Bashir.”

The padds slipped from his hands.

There was really no way to know if his face was betraying him, because even as he struggled to maintain his composure, such shock was not so easily swallowed. He couldn’t ignore his questions now, not when they were staring him right in the face with eyes that recognized him – eyes that had once held no recognition, but had he been fooled?

But he had better say something to this young man gazing up at him, eyeing him ever so carefully. Silence would hardly help his case now, especially silence this thick. So he strung a few words together, but even as they left his mouth he knew they didn’t sound nearly indifferent enough.

“You gave no indication that you recognized me.”

Rugal leaned a little closer, lowering his voice. “Because I know why you’re here,” he said, holding Julian’s gaze intently. “And I know there’s something deeper happening in the Council if Starfleet would send someone to investigate. I’ve heard the rumors about shapeshifters and the Dominion, and –”

“Wait a minute, Rugal,” Julian cut in. Damnit, he needed to think of a way out of this, and even if Garak wasn’t here to help, he would have to manage on his own. “I’m afraid there’s been some misunderstanding. I’m not here as some sort of intelligence operative for Starfleet. I’m only a doctor!” He gave the wild notion the laugh it deserved, but he could only hope that it sounded natural. He took a seat across from Rugal to further demonstrate his ease. “But I have to use a fake name in order to work with the Federation civilian relief effort. Starfleet personnel aren’t permitted to volunteer because of the Federation’s neutrality in the Klingon-Cardassian War, so I have no other choice.”

But Rugal was eyeing him with clear skepticism, just as convinced as that black marketeer had been by that story. “Really? You would go through all that trouble just to treat sick Cardassians?” he asked, fixing Julian with a look that he refused to shift under. “None of you Starfleet officers struck me as people who would do the right thing if it meant disobeying orders… Or else I wouldn’t be here, would I?”

Well, Rugal was certainly the most direct Cardassian Julian had ever met. He let out a sigh, but how could he explain this after all that Rugal had been through? “Rugal, it was a very difficult decision that Captain Sisko had to make –”

“Which you helped him make,” Rugal interrupted. “You and that Cardassian tailor. Is he here with you too?” He looked around as if Garak would suddenly emerge from the shadows.

Julian didn’t even blink. “No. Garak doesn’t know I’m here, and neither does anyone else on DS9. They think I’m on personal leave.”

“But Starfleet Intelligence knows you’re here.”

Damnit, that boy was a stubborn one – and so convinced, too. His eyes were full of accusation, but there was just a hint of excitement that made it seem like he wanted this to be true.

Which meant that Julian needed to end this very soon, or Rugal might unravel everything he and Garak had been working toward. “I already told you, Rugal, I’m not with Starfleet Intelligence,” he insisted firmly, only a thin layer of composure over his frustration.

“You don’t have to worry about me informing on you, Doctor. They’d probably just arrest me for co-conspiracy, with how corrupt these people are,” Rugal said, a bluntness better fitting Kira than any proper Cardassian. “I have no loyalty to this government…or to this planet. I just want to help you expose these bastards. Because of them, because of Meya Rejal and Legate Dukat…I lost good friends…and I lost Kotan. You promised me you were doing everything you could to stop his killer.”

A bit of the spirit had faded from Rugal’s eyes, breaking Julian’s gaze to study the table’s reflective surface.

But as much as that might stir Julian’s compassion and guilt, he had more serious problems to worry about right now. So serious, in fact, that he spared his medkit a quick glance, knowing full well what was inside. Oh, but he hoped it wouldn’t come to that…

His gaze flickered back to the boy. “I was talking about the Rudellian plague, Rugal.”

Rugal lifted his head suddenly, fire flashing inside ridge-shadowed eyes. “But we both know Kotan didn’t have the plague. He didn’t look the least bit sick the last time I saw him, I’m certain of that now! Dukat has wanted him dead for years and –” He heaved a sigh, releasing some of that quickly mounting frustration before shoving a hand into his pocket, pulling out a data rod. “Look, here. Just take it.”

Julian accepted the gift. “What is it?”

“I found it among the things Kotan left to me,” Rugal answered, words tripping over themselves to explain. “It’s a series of personal logs he recorded the week before he… died. He sounded very concerned with the changes that were happening in the Council, especially with a man named Regnok. And he wasn’t coughing. His voice didn’t even sound scratchy! This can’t just be a coincidence!”

Julian tried not to flinch as Rugal’s voice rose to a harsh whisper. But he said nothing, his mind still processing Rugal’s words.

Rugal scanned him impatiently before reaching forward. “But if you really can’t help me, then…”

But Julian pulled the rod out of reach before Rugal could grab it, and with that his decision was made. Because no matter how much this increased their risk, no matter how many times Garak had warned him against this very thing, he couldn’t feign ignorance now, not with such potentially valuable information on the line.

He would just have to trust Rugal. There were really no other options, at least none that he was willing to consider now.

He leaned over the table as he slipped the data rod into his pocket, his voice an urgent whisper. “You have to be careful, Rugal. I don’t want you involved with this.” Rugal was young, but he had to be made to understand the gravity of what he had stepped into, that this wasn’t a game. “If Dukat is indeed responsible for your father’s death, there’s no guarantee that you’re safe, especially if you start getting too curious.”

But Rugal didn’t look very disturbed by this – in fact, there seemed to be relief washing over his face. “I realize that, and I have been careful,” he insisted. “I haven’t shown this to anyone, but…Well, given the choice between the Council and the Federation, I trust your people just a little bit more.”

He had always suspected as much, but after the decision that Sisko had made, it was still a little surprising to hear. “Thank you for this information,” Julian nodded, keeping his tone professional. “I’ll do what I can with it, but in the meantime you need to lay low. Don’t tell anyone about this or any of your suspicions, not even your friends. There are eyes and ears everywhere in this city.”

“You don’t need to tell me that, Doctor. Kotan used to warn me all the time before the Order fell.”

“The Order may be gone, but the people in its place are just as dangerous.” Julian held his gaze firmly, but as hard and resolute as Rugal’s eyes were, there were a few small cracks, a little sadness peeking through.

And for a moment Julian allowed his compassion to resurface, to spread across his face in lines and furrows. This young man had suffered so much during the last few years of his life, such conflict and confusion and displacement and loss, and Julian probably didn’t know the extent of it, but there was something about it all that was too much like himself, that he couldn’t help but feel for this prodigal son.

But he knew he couldn’t let this guilt keep resurfacing, not when it did nothing but gnaw away at him. Perhaps he could finally, truly be rid of it.

“I really am sorry about what happened, Rugal. I did what I could to learn the truth, but it wasn’t enough.”

A silence fell between them, but the hurt in Rugal’s eyes was enough to continue the conversation until he had found his tongue.

“I don’t know if there’s any way to save these people,” Rugal said softly. His gaze shifted away for a moment before suddenly returning, new determination reflected in his eyes. “But getting Dukat and Rejal out of power would be a good start.”

A small smile tugged at Julian’s lips. Oh, if it were only that simple.

“That’s something you and your people will have to sort out, I’m afraid. I’m only here to prevent a war.”

But now he had definitely said too much. Yes, it was clear that Rugal could be trusted, but that didn’t mean it was safe to continue this conversation for as long as they pleased, not when there was only a wall separating them from open and surveilled territory.

He rose from his chair. “Now you should leave before anyone sees you here. I’m afraid this will probably be the last time I’ll see you.”

Rugal stood and followed him, but Julian paused before getting too close to the door. He had a few more things he needed to say.

“I know this is difficult, but however strongly you may feel, please don’t do anything rash,” he urged, laying a hand on Rugal’s shoulder. Standing here face to face, it was clear how much the boy had grown over the past three years. His once youthful, soft features had thinned and hardened. “I have it on good authority that the constabularies will soon be reporting to Central Command, so you can expect to see more aggressive policing in Torr.”

A flash of surprise passed over Rugal’s face before his expression hardened, meeting Julian’s eyes with firm resolve. “Don’t worry about me. I know when to back down from a fight… I’m not so sure about some of my friends, but I’ll try to talk some sense into them…” He moved toward the door before hesitating, turning back around. “Tell Chief O’Brien that I say hello when you see him next.”

Julian couldn’t help but smile at that, wondering how in the universe he was going to explain any of this to Miles. “I’m sure he’ll be glad to hear you’re all right.”

A press of hands and a mutual wish of good luck and Rugal was gone.

Once the doors had shut him back into a silent office, Julian immediately fell to pacing. That trapped nervous energy was demanding release, and his body simply couldn’t stay still when his mind was so active. But there was really no use worrying about the consequences of his actions right now, because he had chosen this path and there was no turning back. Now he just had to trust that Rugal would stay out of trouble, and that this would all be worth it...

He drew out the data rod and contemplated its generic form. It was useless staring at it like this, but he had to wait a few more minutes just to be certain Telma wasn’t going to barge in for a convenient little chat.

But it seemed she hadn’t seen Rugal after all, because after fifteen minutes of waiting she still hadn’t appeared and Julian was beginning to grow restless. Well, that was as much caution as he was prepared to show right now. But even as he slipped the rod into the console, he refused to let his hopes rise too high, because that had always worked out so well in the past… Still, after what Rugal had told him, this had to hold _some_ answers. Just how much did Pa’Dar know before he was assassinated?

There was no use hypothesizing anymore, because he would soon know the truth. But the truth would have to be turned down to the lowest volume, just audible enough for Julian to hear as he sat in front the console.

He found the first file and tapped the controls. A video recording of Kotan Pa’Dar appeared on the screen.

_“Personal log, Kotan Pa’Dar._

_There is something truly unsettling about Meya’s actions of late. At first I was baffled why she would appoint anyone as young and inexperienced as Teron Regnok to the Central Command liaison position, but I figured it was a hasty decision driven by fear of what Central Command would do without someone to keep them accountable. But now I’m afraid it’s not so innocuous._

_I have long been fearful of the influence Skrain Dukat has over Meya, and I have never understood why she heeds his counsel. But it’s clear to me now that Regnok is nothing more than Dukat’s pawn, his arm in the executive branch. This bill he proposed has Dukat’s stench all over it. I can only hope Meya has enough sense to see just how much power it would restore to Central Command, but I cannot be confident in her wisdom anymore. Fear – fear of the Klingons, fear of the Torr dissidents, fear of Tekeny – has been chipping away at her sense and reason, her compassion and pragmatism, the vision that has helped build this movement from infancy. But that has been clear ever since she refused to welcome Tekeny home._

_Still, it may not be too late. She respects the advice of her friends. I may yet be able to convince her to distance herself from Dukat.”_

Well, Rugal was right about one thing at least. This log was timestamped three days before Pa’Dar’s death, and neither his appearance nor his voice showed any symptoms of the plague. If nothing else had confirmed it before, this certainly did. Kotan Pa’Dar had been unequivocally assassinated.

The next log began to play, recorded the following day. Kotan was sitting in the same elegantly furnished room, probably his personal study.

_“What is that woman thinking? She is actually considering signing her name to Regnok’s bill! Not only that, but she has started inviting him to our meetings, which were once reserved for her closest advisors. It’s clear that Regnok speaks with the voice of Dukat – though with far less charisma. Yet somehow he has already garnered the support of many in the Assembly. There’s something very peculiar about that man…it goes beyond his reserved mannerisms and lifeless eyes. I know Mother would call me superstitious, but there seems to be some sort of malevolent shadow around this man. He cannot be trusted._

_But when I brought these concerns to Meya, she refused to listen. It seems that suspicions alone won’t be enough to persuade her, not when Dukat has her ensnared. I’ll need something more concrete to convince her of his deceit. I can only hope that she will listen to reason then, that once these negative influences are removed, her mind will become clear once again. She is not the Meya I remember from those underground meetings at her estate in Perok, back when she was talking about rising up and giving power back to the people. Have I really underestimated the corruption that this power can create?”_

There was one final log, dated the evening before Pa’Dar’s death. He looked a bit more haggard in this one, but there were still no plague symptoms.

_“I believe I may have stumbled upon something that could expose the truth about Teron Regnok. Granted, it isn’t much right now, but it has the potential to lead to something…Well, it’s certainly not as concrete as I had hoped, but this man’s record appears clean on the surface – far too clean, far too mediocre for someone sitting on the Council. That’s why I’m hopeful this might lead to something._

_Regnok, like me, has the rarest blood type in Cardassians –_ koh _. It is estimated that less than three percent of the population has this blood type. Now that information on its own means nothing, but combined with other factors, it suggests the possibility of something critically threatening, something I didn’t think was possible because of how regularly council members are subjected to random blood screenings. I recall Ithas telling me about a string of murders that happened a few months ago in Torr, that he believed were all committed by the same individual, someone they dubbed the Blood Type Killer. Not the most creative name – I think_ Koh _Killer would have sounded better, but I digress. The Blood Type Killer only targets victims with the_ koh _blood type, but his motives are still unknown. And to this date, only one of his victims’ bodies has been found – four months ago, I believe. It was pulled from the river, completely drained of blood, and it wasn’t clear how long it had been there. I suppose that means the other crimes can only be considered abductions until the victims’ bodies are found, but the only link between these five missing people is their blood type._

_Of course the connection startled me when I discovered it, so I reviewed Regnok’s medical records on file at Central Hospital. They showed no traces of DNA besides his own, as I expected, because an anomaly like that would have been reported as soon as it was discovered…but of course, there are ways to filter out DNA from leukocytes…_

_But how would Regnok have access to such technology? Ah, perhaps this is just some wild conspiracy theory after all. Yes, Mother would certainly chide me for entertaining such thoughts. Still, I’m going to meet Alon for dinner tomorrow, so I’ll discuss it with him. Perhaps he and the Bureau might be able to uncover something. In the meantime, I will keep searching Regnok’s medical records for any anomalies.”_

The final log of Kotan Pa’Dar blipped into black and the room fell silent. That was it.

Oh, but even with only three short entries, it provided so much new information and confirmed all of Julian’s theories about Pa’Dar’s death, because Pa’Dar had been interfering too much in Dukat’s plans, asking too many questions…asking about Regnok.

And Regnok. Pa’Dar hadn’t actually said it, but it was clear what he suspected. Regnok was Dukat’s Changeling.

He had always suspected it, had always wanted it to be true – and wouldn’t that be convenient if they could find the war plans and expose the Changeling in one go?  And perhaps it _was_ possible after all.

The Blood Type Killer…he hadn’t heard of any of these murders or disappearances, and he doubted Garak had seen anything in the constabularies’ files he accessed, but the connection was plausible. Theoretically it would be possible for a Changeling’s body to absorb someone else’s blood and hold it within his own morphogenic matrix, so that when a hypo pressed against his “skin,” it would draw out real blood. He would, of course, need to preserve that blood separately when he reverted to liquid state.

It was also possible to filter DNA out of leukocytes, but Pa’Dar was right to be skeptical there. Such a process was quite involved, and would require more sophisticated technology than the average bureaucrat had access to. He had seen no records of equipment being stolen from the hospital. And who knew how long the Changeling had been assuming Regnok’s form, if that really was the case…

But still, it was possible, and if he could only prove it…

Had Pa’Dar found something that could prove it before his untimely demise? Or had he just been asking too many questions for Dukat’s comfort? Or…

Or was his murder even more sinister than Julian had realized?

But there weren’t any more logs on the data rod, Julian confirmed as he scrolled through its contents again. There was only one other file, a text file with two words – a Kardasi word that translated literally into “master of keys,” followed by a string of unintelligible Kardasi letters and syllables.

Well, now seemed as good a time as any to revisit Regnok’s medical records. Julian was quite familiar with them, having pulled them up a few times since he started suspecting the councillor was involved, but it was possible he had overlooked something.

So he began a meticulous comb-through, analyzing every record individually. Normally he would just ask the computer to run specific queries and comparative analyses, but he might not even be able to trust the computer anymore.

He continued his search in painstaking detail, working backwards chronologically, doublechecking every piece of data in Regnok’s medical records.

But soon an hour had passed and he had found nothing. Not that he was certain what he was looking for exactly, other than anomalies, something that might indicate the records were forged. Well, there was the record that confirmed Regnok’s last blood test before joining the Council was six months ago, so at least that seemed to align with Pa’Dar’s theory. But everything else checked out, and as determined as he was to finally uncover the truth, a sharp ache was forming in between his eyebrows and he was growing a little tired. Maybe a break was in order. Yes, just a few minutes and a cup of _gelat_ and then he would return to this, start on the records from –

 _Oh._ But there weren’t any more records when he tried to scroll down. They went back three years and then stopped. But there had to be more; birth records indicated that Regnok was born and raised in Cardassia City, so there was no reason why Central wouldn’t have access to earlier medical records.

“Computer, list patient’s medical records before 2370.”

_“Cannot comply. Authorization code required.”_

That was odd. He had never been denied access to anything in the hospital’s database before, thanks to the high clearance level Parmak had granted him. Perhaps Garak would be able to hack into it, but they were far too exposed at the hospital to try it locally, so they would have to wait until this evening.

But he really couldn’t wait much longer, not when he had come so far. He was on the cusp of a major breakthrough, he was certain of it! Ah, but Kotan Pa’Dar had been head of the Science Ministry, so his “master of keys” might…

He pulled up the text file again.

“Computer. Authorization _po-zi-U-Ch-o-Th-te_.”

_“Access granted.”_

The screen flickered and a list of files appeared, looking no more special than the records that weren’t protected. But they were dated with older dates, going back for many years. He could only hope that he would find something soon before he ended up combing through _every_ record…

But when he selected the first record, it came up blank. So he went back and chose the next one, only to find another blank. He tried the third record. Blank.

Every record before the year 2370 was completely blank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Kotan Pa’Dar…he really shouldn’t have Ned Starked it.
> 
> I love this little line Julian has in The Nexus where he describes Parmak as “a sweet man, actually, bit whiny for my taste, but... sweet.” I’ve been trying to base the way I write Parmak off of that, but I’m honestly not sure what to do with the whiny bit. How do you make a grown man whiny? Make him go to Tosche Station to pick up some power converters? 
> 
> Tune in next week for more evidence, theories, and a difficult decision.


	32. Changeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian and Garak search for more evidence to confirm their theory.

“Do you know what happened to these records?”

Telma leaned over the console, peering closer at the records in question. She had come shortly after Julian had called her to his office – though, to her credit, not soon enough to suggest she had been lurking nearby. It wasn’t clear if she knew anything about Rugal’s visit, if she had been at the front desk or surveilling the hallway, but if she didn’t know, it was better to keep it that way.

Julian remained standing beside her as she took a seat in front of his console, tapping the controls to examine the records. It was a strange to see her face without even the hint of a smile, but with Telma, that could mean anything.

“This is odd,” she murmured after a moment of inspection. “It looks like they’ve been purged. Only the directory paths remain.”

There was a stream of questions already rushing through Julian’s mind, but as confused and excited as he might be, he held them back for the moment. A more subtle approach was required here.

“Is it the hospital’s policy to purge records older than three years?” He watched her carefully as she continued searching through the blank files, but she appeared just as confused as he had been thirty minutes ago.

Telma glanced back up at him. “No, we keep everything.” And that was what he had expected, after all he had heard and experienced of Cardassians’ meticulous record keeping. Telma turned back to the console, scrolling further down through the records. “I’ve never come across anything like this… And they’re all like this?”

Julian nodded. “Every record before 2370 has been wiped blank.” He had confirmed that personally, unable to trust the computer when it should have alerted him to insufficient data weeks ago.

Telma sat back in the chair. “My goodness…”

My goodness indeed. He had never seen that particular look of shock on her face before. It wasn’t too bad, honestly. “What do you think these records might have shown?” he asked simply.

But as she swiveled around to look up at him, that uncharacteristic shock quickly faded, replaced by a very characteristic smile. “You seem to have some theories.”

Julian nodded, taking care to keep his expression neutral. He would need to reveal some of his hand, it seemed, but not all. “Well if files don’t tend to disappear on their own, then perhaps these records contained the biometric profile of the real Teron Regnok.”

“The real Teron Regnok?” Telma asked, intrigued enough to raise both eye ridges. “Are you suggesting this current one is a fake?”

“Yes. I believe we may have found Dukat’s Changeling.”

Telma’s eyes widened under the shadows of her ridges, just a little disbelief in her surprise. “I knew he was involved in Dukat’s plans, but the Changeling? How did he ever get past all the blood tests and screenings? The Council has been on high alert ever since the Klingons accused them of being Dominion assets. There are blood screenings almost every week.”

Julian held her gaze steadily, already prepared for this explanation. “I think he’s been using the blood of other Cardassians, holding it within his morphogenic matrix. According to all our tests and records, Regnok has _koh_ blood – well, at least he does now – and people with that blood type have been going missing for the past six or so months…right around the time of this blood test.” He leaned over to take control of the console, finding Regnok’s last blood test prior to joining the Council. “Do you know who administered this test?”

“I did,” Telma answered.

Well, at least she was being honest there. It would be difficult to lie when her name was listed on the appointment record.

“But I would have remembered if his blood work didn’t match his records,” she continued, squinting as if trying very hard to recall. She spent another few moments in visual contemplation before meeting Julian’s gaze again. “You think Regnok hacked into our database and tampered with his records?”

“Yes…or…”

But he wasn’t going to say it, not yet. It was a passing thought, a vague suspicion probably born of mistrust and a few circumstantial facts, but it was still interesting to consider. Interesting and a little disconcerting. But he filed that away for consideration at another time, because he still needed to do more observation before he jumped to any drastic conclusions.

“But what I don’t understand,” he continued, brushing past the strange pause, “is why he would alter some records and delete others. He couldn’t have been on Cardassia for three years if these disappearances only started earlier this year…could he?” He had assumed as much, but he really couldn’t be certain, now that he considered it. There were still so many possible factors missing from the equation.

“Perhaps he couldn’t access these older files to edit, but found another way to erase their contents,” Telma suggested, turning back to the console.

Julian said nothing, a little glad she hadn’t asked how he had accessed them.

Telma was scrolling through the directory of blank records again, pursing her lips thoughtfully. “There may be a way to reconstruct the data he deleted, depending on the method he used. I’ll try running a subroutine to microscan the purge trace, but it might take a few hours.”

Julian nodded, but that hardly satisfied him. He had enough experience with both that woman and that method of data reconstruction not to put much stock in its results. But she was free to try whatever she liked, and in the meantime he still had a few more questions. “Do you remember anything from his records before that blood test? Some detail that superior Cardassian memory of yours retained?”

“My memory may be superior,” Telma allowed, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. “But I can hardly retain every single detail about every patient. And I doubt you could either.” She looked back up at him, holding his gaze pointedly. “We weren’t watching Regnok before he joined the Council. And I hadn’t been working here in 2370, so I can’t help you there. I would suggest contacting his doctor at the time, but Dr. Chagaren passed away a couple years ago. And I doubt Kelas knows anything, or he definitely would have mentioned something.”

He really couldn’t be sure if she was being honest or unhelpful, but it would have to do for now. That was all the information he would be getting from her, it seemed, without volunteering too much of his own. But that was all right, because he had Garak, and that Cardassian was turning out to be significantly more reliable than this one.

“All right,” he said, as if admitting defeat. “Then it looks like these records are most likely gone.”

“If this doesn’t work, then I’m afraid so. It really is a shame, especially if Regnok is the Changeling we’re looking for.” She tapped a few more controls to start the microscan and then swiveled back to face him. “We’ll double our surveillance efforts at the Council, but it looks like that’s all we can do with this. Missing evidence isn’t evidence, after all. If this was brought to the Council’s attention, Regnok would undoubtedly blame it on a hospital system error.”

Julian eyed her carefully. Perhaps it was just his imagination, but that sounded suspiciously like she wasn’t opposed to a little interference…

“Well then it’s a good thing it’s not my job to expose him as a Changeling, isn’t it?”  

“Of course.” Telma smiled up at him, and there was that air of confidence again, of being in charge of the conversation, even as his standing figure towered over her. “How are those war plans coming along?”

“We’re pursuing a few different ways to obtain them.”

Telma’s smile widened as she stood up, not a trace of surprise or confusion left in her casual demeanor. “Wonderful. If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

He let her take a few steps toward the door before he asked his final question, just a casual, harmless suggestion. “You know, the hospital might not always be the best place to discuss these matters. Do you have somewhere we could meet outside of work? A house or apartment maybe?”

But Telma dismissed Julian’s attempt with an easy grin. “Oh, no, I’m afraid my place is far too cluttered and cramped to receive guests. As long as we keep your office clean, this should be suitable.”

Julian nodded his acquiescence, but that slight shifting of her eyes didn’t escape his notice. But he said no more on the matter, accepting her usual words of parting before she headed for the door.

And this time, when she turned around to offer one final clever word, he was expecting it.

“Oh, one more thing. You and Garak will need to be more careful in Torr. There is word that –”

“I already know,” Julian interrupted.

Telma blinked, but her smile didn’t falter. “I see.” The door hissed closed behind her.

Julian sighed and turned back to the console, running a hand through his overgrown hair. That really hadn’t cleared anything up, and he still wasn’t certain if she deserved any of his trust, Starfleet or not, but it was clear where his main focus needed to be right now. The end of his shift couldn’t come soon enough with a mind full of theories and no Garak to share them with.

 

* * *

 

The streets of Tarlak were so congested by the afternoon rush that by the time they made it to the Torr border, Julian had already given Garak a thorough rundown of the day’s revelations. Garak had only interjected a few times during the debriefing, not very surprised by their alleged Changeling’s identity, and a little intrigued by the tactics he might be using to evade detection.

They were able to continue their discussion uninterrupted as Garak maneuvered the skimmer into the express lane that their fast pass granted them access to, bypassing the border checkpoint. It was another reason to be grateful for Parmak’s generosity, because the less they interacted with the constables, the better.

But Garak seemed to fall into contemplation as Julian finished recounting his conversation with Telma, gaze fixed ahead as they passed under a sharp metallic arch into Torr. A few more moments and he spoke. “Then I take it Rugal knows.”

Julian offered him a sidelong glance, uncertain how much disapproval was hidden behind that impassive expression. He hadn’t been looking forward to this part of the conversation. “Yes. Well, about me,” he quickly qualified. “He doesn’t know you’re here.”

Yes, Garak did seem a little displeased, if those lines on his forehead could be trusted. But he remained silent, allowing Julian to continue his defense.

“But I really had no other choice,” he insisted. “He recognized me at the free hospital, and I wasn’t about to erase three weeks’ worth of memories from the boy!”

“After what he learned about his father’s death, that may have been the merciful option.”

Julian frowned, not caring for that particular tone. “ _Garak._ ”

Garak returned Julian’s frown with one of his own, a little more tension in his jaw. “Perhaps now you understand why I criticized your carelessness at the free hospital,” he said, a quick, scathing glance to show _just_ how displeased he was.

Julian let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. He really wasn’t in the mood for another lecture about his indiscretion, or for the grand heated debate that was sure to follow. “Please, let’s not rehash that argument now. Not when we have more important matters to discuss. We can’t change what’s already been done.”

The air hung thick and silent inside the skimmer as Garak considered the prospect. At length he gave a sharp nod and replied, “Very well… but I intend to start monitoring his apartment again, for both his safety and ours.”

Julian raised no objections. It was better than any of the alternatives, which he was honestly surprised Garak wasn’t insisting they consider. He shot his partner another sidelong glance, as if that would somehow uncover what was passing through that strange head of his. Garak wouldn’t have had any qualms about doing what he considered necessary a few weeks ago, no matter how morally questionable, but now…Perhaps Julian was having some effect on him. Garak did finally seem to be treating him like an equal in this partnership.

“Now which startling revelation would you like to discuss first?” Garak asked, his features relaxing into easy composure. “That the hospital database’s security is disturbingly lacking? Or that Regnok may have had some help altering his records?”

Julian’s eyes widened. “Do you think Telma is involved?” he asked, lowering his voice instinctually. Really, it was silly, but when that woman was able to implant a recording device inside your body, they could never be too careful. “I had that thought as well, but I’m not so sure. She seemed reasonably surprised when I showed her the files…”

And really, the thought of a double agent so completely fooling Starfleet Intelligence hardly made any sense.

“I’ve seen no evidence either, but I wouldn’t rule out any possibility with that woman,” Garak mused as they moved steadily through traffic. “I’ll continue searching for information on her, but I’m afraid that’s all we can do. It’s important we stay focused on this Changeling, now more than ever.”

Julian nodded, turning his gaze out to the streets beyond their skimmer. Yes, Garak was right about their priorities, but it was still frustrating not knowing if they could trust his contact at all. And by that subtle frustration between Garak’s eyebrows, it was clear he wasn’t pleased either. Just another risk to add to the list…what would happen when there became one too many?

But he pushed those worries away, taking a moment to observe the sector. The streets were as crowded with pedestrians as any afternoon these days, heads raised high with no fearful eyes in sight. So the crackdowns hadn’t begun yet.

Garak’s words drew him from his observations. “You were wise not to tell her about Rugal or Pa’Dar’s logs.”

Julian might have smiled at the commendation – it was certainly quite nice after the lecture he had narrowly avoided – if the mention of Pa’Dar’s logs hadn’t brought a realization back to mind. “God, I still can’t believe what sick, deranged people Dukat and Regnok are, that they would not only _kill_ Pa’Dar, but use his blood postmortem without his prior consent.”

The thought made his stomach churn, but as curious as he was to confirm it, there was no way to know with Regnok filtering the DNA from the blood he used.

“Well, you have to admit that it was efficient,” Garak remarked, tilting his head thoughtfully. “It removed an obstacle from the Council, silenced a potential informant, and helped the Changeling maintain his disguise. He’ll need a continuous supply with the regular blood screenings at the Council.” Julian shot him a look, not quite appreciating his pragmatism at the moment. Garak was quick to appease him. “That’s in no way excusing it, of course.”

Julian turned his eyes back to the road, letting out a sigh. “If only there was another way to expose Changelings besides blood screenings. It’s ridiculous how he was able to fool my tricorder.” And a little ridiculous how every answer he found led to dozens more. “And we don’t even know how long he’s been here. He could have arrived any time within the last three years.”

“We have one answer at least,” Garak said, drawing Julian’s gaze quickly back to him. “If Pa’Dar’s logs are to be believed, then I must amend my current plan. I doubt Meya Rejal will be too interested in seeing these war plans, or Regnok’s true identity, if she herself is involved in the Dominion plot.”

 

* * *

 

Their investigation into this new information continued well into the night, and by the time morning dawned upon their little East Torr apartment, they were still immersed in discussion over breakfast.

“The more I consider it,” Garak said, pausing for a sip of _gelat._ “The more I don’t believe it’s probable that the Changeling has been on Cardassia for three years…Of course, it is still possible that he managed to slip by the Obsidian Order when it was at its full strength and wait until Central Command was vulnerable enough to be deposed by the Council, but not likely. It’s more likely he came within the last year.”

Julian nodded, considering the theory as he gnawed on his breakfast. “All right. Then he must have been unable to alter all of the records like Telma suggested…”

His thoughts trailed off, suddenly very interested in what Garak was doing across from him. _Yamok_ sauce on a ration bar? But honestly, Julian was willing to try anything at this point, because he wasn’t too sure how many more ration bars he could stomach. But they had already indulged too many times this week, and if they kept using their replicator credits on breakfast, there wouldn’t be enough for certain very important vials of oil. So really, these ration bars were a necessary evil. It was just a little difficult to readjust after they had been spoiled with occasional trips to the market for most of this mission.

“That would align with the constabulary records I found last night,” Garak observed, adding just a dollop more sauce as Julian watched enrapt. “Of course, the body that was found four months ago might not have been Regnok’s first victim. He was a homeless man, after all, so it seems Regnok is deliberately choosing obscure targets. He probably hacked the free hospital’s database to identify the least conspicuous people in Torr with _koh_ blood.” He paused for a long and proper bite before continuing. “And Dukat’s relay logs indicated that he has been communicating with Regnok since nearly a year ago, though it’s anyone’s guess if that was the real Regnok or the Changeling. Teron Regnok did work closely with Central Command accounts at the Finance Ministry.”

Julian perked up at the mention of Dukat’s relay logs, a memory suddenly stirring. “But Dukat stopped contacting that arms dealer six months ago,” he realized, not really caring that his mouth was full. “Which makes sense if he started receiving weapons supplied by the Dominion.”

“Ah, that’s very true. I had nearly forgotten about the arms dealer.”

Julian highly doubted that, but was content to let the lie slip by as he sipped his life-giving _gelat_. He was going to need more than a few cups after the night they had spent at the console researching – exhausting work, but productive. Well, productive in that it closed some doors, narrowing their field of investigation. Garak had checked the database at the Hall of Records (which he conveniently had the clearance codes to access), but Regnok’s file only contained an up-to-date medical profile and a reference to contact Central Hospital for complete medical records. Cardassian record keeping wasn’t centralized, at least not for the elites, so that it was more difficult for any ordinary hacker to gain potentially compromising information.

They had also remotely accessed both the databases at the free hospital and Central. The free hospital’s database had been easy enough for a novice like Julian to hack, lending credibility to Garak’s theory about Regnok’s targets, but Julian had just wanted to doublecheck Rugal’s records, relieved to find that Rugal did not share the same blood type with his father.

And as for Central Hospital, Garak had insisted on starting his own data recovery scan. He had even shown Julian a few modifications that he had made to the subroutine Julian had used, which he admitted to circumventing when he had erased his conversations with his first black market contact.

But after such an involved fourteen hours of work, Julian was growing a little tired of this subject. Even after they had finally made it to bed his mind wouldn’t rest, so he continued reviewing theories and ideas until Garak had not-too-subtly demonstrated his annoyance, covering Julian’s face with a pillow. He still hadn’t decided if he was going to forgive Garak for that.

“Well we’ve made all the progress we can right now. I suggest we finish our breakfast with something a little lighter,” Julian said as a chunk of ration bar slid heavy down his throat.

Garak’s smile suddenly reemerged, a welcome sight after so much deliberation. “Ah, then shall I lament how you look like a kurvarian needle beast with that fur on your face?” he tutted, shaking his head with such sorrowful blue eyes. “I can hardly see that boyish smile anymore.”

Julian flashed his best boyish smile in retaliation, which was still quite visible, thank you. “Lament all you like, Elim, but I’m keeping the beard.” Even though it really couldn’t be called that at this stage… but as useless as it had been the last few days, he was still determined to see this through. “Maybe you should grow one. Then we’ll be matching.”

But Garak only snorted over his _gelat_ , not even willing to give Julian’s fantasies the courtesy of consideration. He then took a moment to dab at his lips with a napkin, something he always did when they conversed over a meal, as if Julian hadn’t seen his mouth glistening with seed several times by now.

“You know, dear, I believe it’s about time you told me how you learned my first name.”

Julian raised an eyebrow, finding Garak’s subtle look of curiosity quite interesting. “Oh, is it no longer so amusing to be on the other end of the secret?”

Garak’s smile fell a little flat. “I’ve been remarkably open with you in recent days.”

Well, he couldn’t really deny that, and he had been grateful for the effort, even if he still had a few unanswered questions. “All right, I suppose it’s only fair.” But he paused for a few long moments, just to build the suspense a little, before elaborating. “Tain told me.”

Oh, perhaps that hadn’t been wise, because now Garak seemed to be choking on his ration bar. Julian rose to assist, but Garak quickly held up a hand to stop him, managing to swallow his breakfast with some of his dignity still intact.

“Excuse me?” Garak rasped. “ _Enabran_ Tain?”

“Mmhm.”

“Care to explain when you were speaking with the head of the Obsidian Order?”

Julian settled back into his chair, rewarding Garak’s strange, sudden interest with a smug grin. “Oh, it was about three years ago,” he answered, quite unconcerned about divulging this long-kept secret. Really, he just loved to see the cracks in Garak’s perfectly composed mask. “You were suffering from the effects of the implant and I didn’t have adequate data on Cardassian biochemistry to synthesize new leukocytes, so I tracked down someone I was certain could help.”

Shock had settled nicely onto Garak’s features by now, in his blinking eyes and parted lips. “You mean to tell me you simply piloted a runabout into Cardassian space and beamed down into Tain’s retirement cottage? Of all the foolish, reckless things you’ve ever done, Julian…” Garak sucked in a slow breath, pressing a finger to his temple. “I’m only surprised you walked away unhindered. And he never tried to contact you after that?”

Oh. There was a little too much worry on Garak’s face for this to be playful anymore, but he really couldn’t understand Garak’s reaction. He had no illusions about what Tain was capable of, but that was three years ago and nothing terrible had come of it.

“No… why would he?”

“Because…” Garak paused for another steadying breath. “Your very visit would have been proof enough that you were someone who valued me, someone who I held dear. It was the perfect opportunity to teach one of his lessons… to enhance my punishment…”

Well, this topic wasn’t lightening the conversation nearly as well as he had hoped, and Garak looked far too stressed for his own good. Yes, a brighter mood was definitely in order.

“Maybe he thought having to put up with a foolish, reckless Human was punishment enough,” Julian suggested, bumping Garak’s foot playfully under the table.

Julian’s tactic, as unorthodox as it may be, seemed to be miraculously improving Garak’s condition, a small smile pulling at his lips as he retaliated against Julian’s errant foot. “The only punishment was having to share a table every week with such a delectable morsel, never permitted to taste. You, my dear, were an exquisite form of torture.”

Julian smirked at that, quite pleased with the improvement of his patient’s smile. It was just the right amount of sultry now, and oh, it was working wonders on his own mood as well. “Well, I think you’ve been permitted more than a taste now…” His foot started wandering up Garak’s leg, sliding in between thighs until it nudged gently against his crotch.

They still had some time. Besides, last night had been their first night without so much as a hand job after all this had started, and he was definitely feeling the effects now. And by the solid warmth his foot brushed against, it seemed that Garak was in hearty agreement.

 

* * *

 

They had barely made it to the hospital on time after their little distraction, but it wasn’t until Parmak gave Julian a peculiar look in the hall that he realized just how much Garak had rumpled his scrubs. His damned lover, of course, escaped any such looks, immaculate as always, despite all that Julian had inflicted upon him.

But that was hardly his biggest concern anymore. After all the progress they had made yesterday, Julian was a little disappointed to find today not quite as promising. Not one hour after he had finished his morning shift in the isolation ward and hunkered down to research in his office, Garak appeared with the first disappointment of the day. Ilya Regnok had opted to have her appointment at the hospital tomorrow.

But it coincided with their theory, at least, because it only made sense that Regnok wouldn’t allow any visitors at his house, not even the family physician. Still, that was hardly any consolation now that their plan wouldn’t be quite as easy as accessing Dukat’s house had been.

But Garak didn’t let their moods dampen, quick to suggest an alternate plan. Telma, it seemed, was making a convenient medical run to Coranum today, and she certainly wouldn’t mind the company of Nurse Robinson. But that’s where Garak’s plan became less grand, because Coranum’s heavy surveillance was not so easily avoided, and the most he could promise was a quick external scan of Regnok’s house when they passed through his neighborhood. It would at least offer them information on Regnok’s security system and potential vulnerabilities to exploit.

In the meantime, Julian was left to await Garak’s return by checking the results of their data recovery scan. Telma’s had already finished that morning with no results, but his hopes were slightly higher for Garak’s modified subroutine. Anything, even a fragment of a phrase or image, would be helpful in piecing together the details of this mystery.

But his hopes were in vain, it turned out, because after he had entered the code Garak had given him to access the results, he was greeted by the same screen from yesterday. Not a fragment of data had been salvaged.

Well, they would just have to operate with the information they had, he decided as he turned back to his research. This frustration welling inside him would hardly help their goals, so he just needed to stay clearheaded and focused and wait for –

The murmur of the newscast suddenly sounded louder, a word jumping out at him – Torr. He swiveled around to face the viewscreen, instructing the computer to increase the volume.

He didn’t have to watch long to learn what had happened. At around seventh bell this morning there had been a raid on the corner _geleta_ shop in East Torr, the shop that he and Garak had once stopped at. Anyone caught in the possession of dangerous anti-State propaganda – the broadsheets, most likely – was arrested.

And then a list of names and mugshots began flickering by. Cardassian ‘casts had a particular preoccupation with broadcasting their criminals, something Garak described as serving two purposes – to shame the perpetrators and their accomplices, and to praise the efficiency of Cardassian law. But right now Julian didn’t bother wondering how many of these young adults actually deserved to be called criminals, because he was keeping a close eye out for one person.

When that person’s name didn’t appear, he let out a breath. Rugal had kept his word – he was laying low. Of course, he couldn’t be so sure about the friends Rugal lived with, but they didn’t know anything about this, so there really wasn’t any reason to worry…

His thoughts were soon interrupted by a visitor – a visitor who never bothered to ring the chime anymore. But Julian dispensed with the usual halfhearted protestations, a little too eager to hear Garak’s results for any banter right now.

Garak met Julian’s expectant gaze with a slight frown, slipping off his sanitary mask. “I’m afraid it’s not good news…oh, but it doesn’t quite warrant _that_ expression. We aren’t in any danger, if that’s what you fear.”

Julian wasn’t too concerned with what his face was projecting at the moment, but he relaxed his forehead anyway. “Then what’s wrong?”

Garak took a step closer, drawing the personal comm from his pocket and handing it to Julian. “Does this look at all familiar to you?”

Julian squinted at the tiny screen, trying to make sense of the strange diagram. It looked like some sort of system schematic, but he had never seen anything quite like it. “No…”

“I wouldn’t expect you to. I don’t recognize it either. In fact I’ve never seen security technology like this on Cardassia before.”

Julian frowned, taking another futile look at the comm before handing it back to Garak. There was a good chance it was some form of Dominion tech from the Gamma Quadrant. At least that meant there was something in his house worth concealing, but it didn’t exactly bode well for hopeful trespassers. “Does that mean it’s impenetrable?”

“No, I wouldn’t declare it impenetrable, but I do know that a system so foreign to me would be nearly impossible to hack locally. With security so tight in Coranum, it just wouldn’t be feasible to linger near his house long enough to determine how to disable it.”

But local hacking was their only option now that Garak had weeks’ worth of failed remote access attempts and nothing to show for them. “Not even if you deactivated all nearby surveillance cameras with this?” Julian asked, gesturing to the comm.

Garak shook his head. “There would still be the possibility that any small mistake in my efforts would trigger an alarm. A very high possibility, since I don’t even know where to start with this.” He gave the comm a final irritated glower before setting it aside.

“So you’re saying it’s impossible to sneak in.”

“No, not impossible. We would just need the code to deactivate this system.”

Julian frowned. “Oh, well of course. How simple. Do you think Regnok would give us the code if we asked nicely? Or have you finally found a way to hack any of his devices?”

Garak’s eyes snapped back to Julian with a little impatience. “You needn’t be petulant, dear. I realize those are no longer options…” His words trailed off as he took a few paces around the room, letting the silence drag for a long moment before finally revealing what was on his mind. He paused directly in front of Julian, keeping his voice low as he spoke.

“I believe it might be time to reconsider your opposition to interrogation. We may not get another opportunity after tomorrow.”

Julian held Garak’s gaze steadily, his frown deepening. “You want to interrogate Regnok’s wife?”

“Yes. She would be a much easier target than anyone else who might be involved.” Garak took another step closer, standing face to face, their chests nearly touching. “I have done some research on her, and it doesn’t look like we would have to resort to aggressive interrogation tactics.”

“Interrogation itself is already too aggressive,” Julian countered. Why did Garak always have to come back to this? He had made his position on the matter quite clear, and he refused to let Garak’s proximity persuade him otherwise, folding his arms stubbornly across his chest.

Garak heaved a soft sigh and took a step back, his combative stance relaxing into only mild exasperation. “If you’re so very opposed to it, then I would be willing to do it without your assistance. You needn’t be involved at all.”

“No.” The word slipped out before he gave it any consideration, but he didn’t like that idea at all, not when he wasn’t sure what lengths Garak might go to extract the information they needed…

“Very well,” Garak relented, though he looked far from pleased. “But we have already exhausted our indirect tactics, and they continue to fail us. We cannot access Regnok at the Council or in public, and we won’t be able to access his house without this code.”

He was right, of course. His argument was becoming more and more persuasive by the second, but even so, there had to be some other option they hadn’t considered yet, something that didn’t involve such a morally questionable tactic. Yes, they didn’t exactly have the luxury of time anymore, not when they had the Changeling and the Bureau and the constabularies to worry about, but there were so many ways that an interrogation could cross that fine line into torture, and if Garak’s self-professed record was to be believed…

 Julian pressed his lips together and said nothing. Garak’s eyes flitted back to him pointedly.

“If you have any other ideas, I’d be delighted to hear them. In the meantime, Dukat continues to gather strength.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished this one early so that I'll have more time to work on the next chapter. I'm looking forward to writing that one.
> 
> Tune in next week for the beginning of phase four.


	33. Interrogation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian gets his first taste of interrogation. Rated E.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last part of this chapter is rated E. Feel free to skip if it's not your thing.

Everything was in place – the patient on the biobed, the containment field around the exam room, the bodyguard outside the locked door, Julian’s second thoughts shoved deep in his mind. Everything was ready for the interrogation of Ilya Regnok.

It had taken a good amount of preparation. There was quite a lucky accident that had double-booked Parmak’s second bell appointments – Nurse Robinson really couldn’t understand how it had happened – but that was no matter. Dr. El Fadil was kind enough to take time away from his research to oversee the exam. Parmak was extremely grateful.

And now Julian waited for his cue to enter this show exam, watching through a one-way mirror in the smaller adjoining room. They had been careful to choose an exam room that conveniently had one, but not one of the larger rooms. No, Garak had been quite specific about the room he had booked the appointment in.

He had been watching Garak for a while now, right from the uncertain start when Ilya’s bodyguard had tried to refuse to leave the room. Luckily the problem was solved by the young woman’s insistence of privacy.

Now Garak and the patient were chatting pleasantly as Garak continued his role in the routine exam, completing all the scans and moving on to the blood test.  He moved around the small room with ease, his step sure, not betraying anything, even as Julian studied every movement carefully. He would need to imitate that composure.

He watched the patient just as closely, this woman who held the code that they needed. Did she feel any apprehension, any premonitions about what was to come? It was difficult to tell from the angle this window afforded him, just the side of her masked face visible. Maybe she noticed how the lights were brighter, probably just slightly uncomfortable to Cardassian eyes, if Garak’s subtle squinting meant anything. But she seemed perfectly at ease, lulled into that state by Garak’s talent for conversation, taking particular interest in the pattern on her dress, as if somehow he knew she would be happy to discuss the tailor shop that had designed it. And of course she had complimented his Kardasi, as everyone seemed compelled to do when they met him.

Her ease continued as Garak slowly steered the conversation away from the trivial, checking the readouts on the tricorder.

“Ah,” Julian heard Garak say, only slightly muffled by the glass. “It appears your blood pressure is slightly elevated, but the rest of your vitals are within normal range. Have you been under any unusual stress lately? In the workplace, perhaps?”

“No, not particularly,” Ilya answered with a shrug. “It’s always a little hectic at the Finance Ministry, but I enjoy the excitement.”

“I see.” Garak set the tricorder aside, burying his gaze distractedly in a padd. “Then perhaps there are stressors at home? Central Hospital offers a variety of resources to handle any complicated interpersonal situations.”

Ilya no longer looked so relaxed from what Julian could see, her body stiffening slightly. “I am not the victim of domestic abuse, if that’s what you’re suggesting. I realize Teron may not come across as the most gregarious of people, but he is a loving husband.”

“My apologies, Madam, I meant no offense to you or Councillor Regnok,” Garak said, quick to soothe. “Hospital protocol requires us to ask every patient such questions.”

Ilya seemed to relax again, and soon their conversation returned to lighter topics. But Julian was only half listening now, mind beginning to wander as he watched the woman closely. No suspicious fidgeting, no artifice, just a warm and friendly person by all appearances.

Of course they had to choose a target for questioning who was practically created to stir his compassion – young, beautiful, seemingly innocent… He was nearly certain she wasn’t involved in this plot, just a victim whose family the Changeling had decided to disrupt…

But it would be fine. He would only ask questions. He wouldn’t cross any lines.

A muffled beep drew his attention back to the exam room, and now it finally looked like the computer had finished scanning Ilya’s blood work. A second more and Garak was calling him over his wrist comm, as if he were somewhere across the hospital, not watching all of this through twentieth century Earth-esque technology. So he took his time exiting the little room into the hallway, waiting a good few minutes before entering through the back door of the exam room, slipping easily into his professional persona.

“Hello, Mrs. Regnok. I’m Dr. El Fadil, a close associate of Dr. Parmak.”

Ilya met his outstretched palm. “Pleased to meet you.”

“I hope Nurse Robinson hasn’t been treating you too monstrously.” Julian caught Garak’s eye as the Cardassian moved past him, offering a playful smile from behind his sanitary mask. “Just between you and me, I think his bedside manner could use some work.”

Ilya glanced between the two of them as if to determine how serious this criticism was, before offering a laugh. “Oh, no, he’s been quite pleasant.”

“Really, Sid,” Garak drawled, back at his side. “I’ve been delightful. Perhaps you should spend less time insulting your nurses and more time doing your job.” He made a sweeping gesture toward the console.

The playful ribbing had done its job quite nicely, if the smiling eyes of Ilya Regnok meant anything. So Julian moved over to the console to review the blood test results.

He took a few more minutes than needed to review them, just to give Garak the time to administer Ilya’s vaccine booster. There seemed nothing out of the ordinary with the results – everything was at normal levels, and they matched her files, for whatever that was worth.

“Well,” Julian said after Garak had administered the hypo. “According to these preliminary tests, it seems you’re in perfect health. The complete results will be available within the next twenty-six hours, but I don’t expect to find anything concerning.”

She looked pleased to hear that, shifting to rise from the biobed. “Thank you, Doctor.”

Garak’s next words stopped her.

“I wish the same could be said for your husband.”

“What?” Her eyes suddenly clouded with confusion. “Was there something abnormal in Teron’s blood work?”

“No, I don’t believe so,” Julian answered, stepping out from behind the console. He exchanged a quick glance with Garak, because he really should have broached the subject with a little more tact, but this seemed to be the way Garak wanted to lead things. He would have to follow. “It’s really the strangest thing, but the hospital recently discovered that Regnok’s older medical records don’t match his recent blood work. He was recorded as _zut_ blood type and now he’s _koh_ – they’re completely different.”

Garak stepped forward as if on cue, padd in hand and ready to prove their case. The evidence was fabricated, of course, because those records, whatever they had actually shown, were long gone. But she wouldn’t simply take their word for it, so Garak had insisted they falsify these records, providing their own missing evidence. It wouldn’t be enough to fool the Council, even with Garak’s unsurprisingly brilliant forgery skills, but hopefully it would be enough to convince Ilya.

She held the padd steadily in her hands, eyes flying back and forth as she reviewed in the data. They took the opportunity to pull up two chairs and position them facing the biobed, just as Garak had planned, both taking a seat to watch her more comfortably.

“I see…” Ilya said at length, handing back the padd to Julian. “So what does this mean? Has his blood type mutated or been altered somehow?”

“That would be a possibility, except that the DNA in his leukocytes has also changed completely,” Julian explained, as simply and professionally as he would to any patient. “Such an acute accelerated mutation would produce serious effects, but there is no evidence of any in the tests we’ve run. So this leads me to believe that these are biometric profiles of two separate individuals…that the man we tested last month isn’t actually Teron Regnok.”

“What do you mean? I remember the day he went in for the blood test last month. I was with him in our skimmer.” She was obviously confused now, trying to determine just exactly what Julian was implying. “I think I would have noticed if someone was impersonating my husband.”

“You would like to think so, I realize,” Garak said smoothly. “But Changelings are known for their near perfect impersonation abilities.”

“Wait, hold on a moment. You think Teron is a _Changeling_?”

Tension had returned to Ilya’s body with a firm grasp, but Julian refused to mirror it. “That seems the most likely explanation,” he said simply.

“Well not to me it doesn’t!” She let out a humorless laugh, far too loud if not for the soundproof containment field that surrounded the exam room, or the surveillance sweep Garak had done before this. “How can he be a Changeling if he has blood?”

“We believe he absorbed someone else’s blood.”

But Ilya refused to entertain the possibility, shaking her head. “Look, I know my husband and yes, he can be shy or even a bit rude at times, but he is not a Changeling! Have you tried asking him about this? He might have a perfectly reasonable explanation!”

Garak observed her agitation calmly. “Do you really think he would answer truthfully if he were a Changeling?”

“We were hoping someone close to him might be a more reliable source,” Julian added. They were sitting as two calm pillars in front of her. “Have you noticed any differences in his behavior recently?”

“If there have been any changes in the last three years, no matter how subtle, it’s important that we know.”

Ilya turned her gaze on Garak, eye ridges scrunching together. “Three years? We were only enjoined last summer, and I think I would know if I enjoined with a Changeling.”

Three years was probably too broad anyway; they needed to narrow it down. “Then what about the last six months?” Julian suggested. “Has he ever looked slightly different in appearance? Or made any strange disappearances roughly sixteen hours apart?”

By the way Ilya was looking at him, it was as if he suggested that their universe was nothing but an illusion. But it may have been that way to her, if this reaction was truly genuine. She seemed angry, yes, but not false. There was no suspicious fidgeting in her tense body.

“No, never,” she insisted, folding her arms resolutely. “I told you, he’s not a Changeling. I don’t know what happened to his medical records, but there’s obviously been some mistake, a computer error of some kind.” She sat up slightly taller, placing her hands in her lap, no longer any uncertainty in her manner. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to the Finance Ministry. I’m expected in a meeting at third bell and I really can’t be late.”

But the moment she tried sliding off the biobed onto her feet, Garak was suddenly standing in front of her, pinning her in place without laying a hand on her. His voice no longer sounded so pleasant.

“I’m afraid this exam has not yet concluded.”

Ilya made no movements for a long moment, eyes locked onto Garak as if appraising him, determining what sort of risk this middle-aged Human posed. Her eyes only flickered to Julian once, still sitting innocuously by with his padd. When she spoke, there was only the slightest wavering in her voice. “And if I decide that it is?”

A shadow seemed to pass over Garak’s eyes, darkening every hue of blue to a lifeless black. Julian still had no idea how he was able to manage that.

“Then you’ll be restrained accordingly.”

“Then I’ll scream.”

“Oh, be my guest.” A smile seemed to crack behind Garak’s impersonal sanitary mask, just the least bit of amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes. “But it will do you no good, I’m afraid. This room is surrounded by a containment field, you see, so any sound you make will not leave these walls. And as for your bodyguard outside the door…let’s just say he’s a little indisposed at the moment.”

Julian watched the scene play out in front of him, two stares locked in a silent battle, and perhaps he had underestimated this woman. She was no shrinking violet – but that didn’t exactly bode well for them now, because the longer this took, the –

A sudden jerk forward and Ilya was trying to escape, but a jerk forward was as far as she went before Garak caught her by the shoulder, forcing her back onto the biobed.

Still Garak’s voice remained calm, even as tension coiled in his body, hand still clamped securely on the woman’s shoulder. “I’m afraid you’ve left me no alternative,” he tutted, shaking his head. “Sid, would you activate the isotropic restraint?”

Julian rose but made no movement toward the console. “That isn’t necessary.”

Garak’s eyes flitted back to Julian, and his hand was a little too heavy on Ilya, a little too rough, keeping her pressed securely against the elevated back of the biobed. He could see Garak better from this angle, but there wasn’t much he recognized in those eyes.

And then the questions returned, the questions that still plagued him even after this semblance of closeness, because just how far was Garak willing to go for this?

But Julian still knew his line, and binding this poor woman like a prisoner was definitely beyond it.

Garak looked more intrigued than anything as he returned Julian’s stare. “Oh, and how do you suggest we continue this interrogation if she is free to wander about the room and make a weapon of anything she pleases?”

“Interrogation?” Ilya seemed genuinely concerned now, struggling against the grip that kept her pinned to the biobed.

And to her credit, she did manage to catch Garak off guard, pushing him back for just a moment before Garak whirled around retook the advantage, seizing her arms with bruising strength. “Yes, my dear, now if you would just sit still –”

Julian clamped a hand down on Garak’s shoulder. “Let go of her, Andy.” That was far too much manhandling after all that Garak had promised – that they wouldn’t lay a hand on her, they wouldn’t hurt her. “Can’t you see she’s just nervous? She’s not going to answer any of our questions if you treat her like that.”

And it was clear by Ilya’s tense jaw and narrowed eyes that she was trying valiantly to hide her fear, but she was no expert at deception, not like the bloody Cardassian who had talked him into this. He was quickly regretting ever succumbing to his arguments, no matter how reasonable they had been.

But that’s what was so strange about this aggression. It wasn’t reasonable, it wasn’t necessary. Ilya was hardly a hardened soldier or a cunning operative; she was a regular civilian. Surely such force was disproportionate here…Unless…

Garak was a highly skilled and experienced operative, and a master of interrogation if his own thinly veiled boasts were to be believed. He was certainly an expert on analyzing a target’s character and devising the precise method of deconstructing their defenses…So perhaps this was the technique that would work, if this was really what Garak was intending… even if it seemed to resemble the old “good cop, bad cop” trope that only ever worked on naïve and frightened suspects…

But if this was the role Garak had planned for him, it was a role he could play.

“We can’t treat her like a criminal,” he insisted, a little more passionately this time. There was a little twinkle in the depths of Garak’s eyes, a hint he was on the right track. “She’s done nothing wrong.”

A second more and Garak slowly released her, drawing back to give her some space. But he kept a wary eye trained on her body, watching for any hint of movement as he drew a hypospray out of his pocket.

Julian took a step forward, watching the motionless woman with kind eyes. “I’m sorry about that, Ilya. He can be a bit overzealous at times. We won’t restrain you if you would be kind enough to give us a few more minutes of your time.”

Ilya held his gaze for a moment more, as if to be certain Julian wouldn’t offer her the same hospitality, before carefully sitting back up, legs hanging off the edge of the biobed. “I don’t understand what you want,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. “You’re Humans. Why should this concern you at all? Are you with Starfleet?”

But before Julian could offer the usual excuse, Garak had resumed control of the conversation. “Ah, it seems our disguises have been quite effective. I told you as much, Pythas.”

Ilya’s eyes snapped back to Julian. “Pythas? You’re Cardassian?... Just who are you two?”

“You’re really not in the position to demand answers, my dear…But since you asked _so_ nicely…” Garak took a step forward, toying casually with the hypo in his hand. “My name is Elim Garak, and this is my associate, Pythas Lok.”

The confusion on her brow gave way to something far more uneasy. “The protégés of Enabran Tain…”

So there was a second protégé of Tain…but Julian couldn’t let that distract his focus. He didn’t blink, didn’t even cast a questioning glance in Garak’s direction. If Garak was confident enough to reveal his identity, then he must be absolutely certain about this plan. Julian would just have to trust that was the case as long as Garak continued to behave himself…but it remained to be seen if he could play the role of someone he had never met.

“Ah, you’ve heard of us then!” Garak observed, beaming with delight.

“I heard that you were dead.” Ilya watched Garak warily, gaze flickering down to the hypo in his hands before locking back onto his gaze. But there was little she could do to hide her trepidation now. “You and the rest of the Obsidian Order.”

“So did Alon Ghemor. But despite his best efforts, the Obsidian Order still remains.”

“And still answers to me.” Julian offered Garak his most sharp, chastising look, completely confident in the word of the black marketeer who had nearly ended their assignment. “I’ll trust you to remember that the next time you’re tempted to act hastily, Elim.”

But if he had been too presumptuous, Garak gave no indication, not at all concerned by the use of his first name. “Of course, Pythas,” he said, eyes twinkling through his reverent nod. “May I continue explaining our purpose to this fine lady?”

“Very well.” Julian decided to ignore that cheeky look. At any other time the thought of using this seniority to his advantage would be quite tempting, but not now. Not when the end of their assignment stood on the other side of that door.

But Garak seemed in no rush, returning to his seat with casual composure. “It’s really quite simple, Madam,” he said, his posture impeccable. “This new regime – Rejal, the Detapa Council, and some in the Assembly – are not loyal to Cardassia like you and me. Rejal is a Dominion asset, and Alon’s new Cardassian Intelligence Bureau is nothing more than her puppet. She has allowed Changelings into prominent positions of the State, and your mate is one of them.”

“Or, more accurately, was replaced by one of them. We only disguised ourselves as Federation relief workers in order to gain access to the hospital’s database,” Julian added, sitting back down as well. A bit of the tension seemed to lift from the room, existing now in only silent undercurrents.  

Garak offered his superior an amicable glance. “And I’m not certain our colleagues at the Bureau would welcome us back with open arms if they knew we had survived that little skirmish.”

Ilya was now eyeing the two of them with open shock, her pupils wide, her chest rising and falling more rapidly. The air fell dead for a few moments before her gaze shifted back into focus, landing squarely on Julian. “Are you even a doctor?”

“I am many things,” Julian answered evenly. “A doctor is one of them.” But she was far too uneasy to be consoled by that, tension racking her body. She wouldn’t tell them anything in this state, but they couldn’t wait forever. Every second that passed brought them closer to the bodyguard’s inevitable impatience. But they couldn’t let her know they were pressed for time – an interrogation was most successful when it had the illusion of perpetuity, or so Garak had insisted. So he removed that impersonal sanitary mask from his face and looked up at her with a gentle smile. “You’re perfectly safe here, Ilya. Now, if you can recall anything that seemed –”

In a flash Garak’s manner seemed to change, no longer so relaxed, his body shifting with impatience. “You’re wasting your time, Pythas,” he sniped. “It’s obvious she’s complicit in the Dominion’s plot. She probably volunteered her mate to be the one who was replaced, and helped him bribe his way onto the Council.”

“That’s not true!” Ilya denied fiercely. “I know nothing about the Dominion!”

“Shh, it’s all right,” Julian soothed, gazing up at her with the softest brown eyes he could manage. “Please calm down. I believe you.”

“Well of course you would, Pythas. You always had a weakness for pretty young things.”

Julian’s lips became a thin, hard line as he stood up. “Elim, a word.” Garak followed him a few steps away, only far enough to give the semblance of private conversation as he began whispering at a volume he knew Cardassian ears could hear.

“You’re out of line, Elim. Look, it’s clear she knows nothing of this plot. The Changeling fooled her and now she’s in shock. We need to be patient with her.”

“We don’t have the luxury of patience, I’m afraid,” Garak whispered back.

Ilya seemed to be running out of patience as well, glaring at their huddle with a little less fear in her eyes. “If you’re already so convinced he’s a Changeling, why do you need to question me? I already told you I’ve seen nothing suspicious.”

Garak seemed a little impressed by her composure as he held her gaze. “That remains to be seen.”

“But even if you can’t remember anything, there’s another way you can help us,” Julian said, retaking his seat. Now finally seemed like the opportune moment to arrive at the real reason for all this trouble. “We have reason to believe that Regnok is in possession of plans – plans that, if enacted, would plunge Cardassia into a long bitter war with the Alpha Quadrant and subjugate her people to the Dominion. We need these plans to expose Rejal’s treason to the Assembly, and we believe they’re somewhere at your estate in Coranum. But we need the deactivation code for your home security system to retrieve them.”

A beat, then Ilya replied. “Well, that’s all very noble, but I don’t have the code. Regnok designed that security system himself. Only he has the code.”

Julian refused to let his frustration furrow his brow, biting back the urge to sigh. Apparently namedropping the Obsidian Order didn’t instill fear and respect for long.

Garak seemed to share his impatience. “I’m afraid you’re not much of a liar, my dear,” he said, his pleasant tone falling flat. “No matter. The Order has a variety of effective methods to extract that information.” He offered her a look of only mild disappointment, as if slightly inconvenienced by some trivial matter, before turning to Julian. “I believe it’s time we bring her back to Headquarters for further interrogation.”

“No. Not yet.” Julian shook his head firmly, as if that was actually an option, and then turned to Ilya. “Please, Ilya. I can only help you if you help us.” He touched her hand lightly, offering his most charming smile, and hopefully that would be just enough of a nudge...

She didn’t pull away, at least, but her stare seemed almost vacant as it flitted about the room. A few more nudges, perhaps.

“I know this must be startling for you,” he continued, voice so soft he wasn’t sure Garak could hear. “If I discovered that someone I loved had been replaced by a Changeling, I wouldn’t believe it either. How could I have been fooled by someone so close to me? It’s not an easy realization to have. But please try to understand the predicament we face. The Union is in danger. Your husband – the _real_ Teron Regnok – is in danger.”

Ilya’s eyes suddenly snapped back into focus. He had analyzed the situation correctly, it seemed. Silence hung heavily in the air for a few long moments, only the muffled sounds of the hospital beyond the containment field.

“If…” She glanced down at Julian’s hand, still resting over hers, before meeting his eyes. “If he really has been replaced, then do you know where he is?”

He kept all relief from his face as he watched this slowly unfold in her eyes. “No, but with your help we can find him,” he assured her, a warm smile to accompany the promise. “You can help us save him. You can help us save Cardassia from Dominion invasion.”

She shifted under his urging smile, under the squeeze of his grasp, so he released her hand and sat back in his chair, giving her some space to think. Garak lingered somewhere in his periphery, silent and watching. Her shoulders slumped, the fight draining from her body as lines of internal conflict marred her forehead.

Garak allowed her a few more moments before filling the void with one simple sentence. “And when we find the real Regnok, we will remember how cooperative his mate has been.”

Ilya’s eyes widened and there it was, fear finally playing freely on her pale face. “I wish I had noticed something. If I really have been so completely fooled…by a Changeling…” Her voice darkened with revulsion.

She was almost there, her defenses had nearly crumbled, but there was just the slightest bit of hesitation still left as she glanced nervously in Garak’s direction. It looked like they would have to dispel with the “bad cop” in this equation. Julian caught his partner’s glance over Ilya’s shoulder and nodded toward the door. They had better start listening for that bodyguard anyway.

Garak complied without hesitation, brushing just close enough past Julian to slip the hypo into the pocket of his scrubs. Julian made no reaction.

“You shouldn’t blame yourself, Ilya,” he said gently. “Changelings have an incredible ability to replicate the physical form, and if they have watched their target for long enough, that ability extends to personality traits.”

Ilya nodded distractedly. “Maybe…maybe the man I fell in love with was not actually Teron Regnok…”

“Our evidence suggests it’s more likely the Changeling came onto Cardassia six months ago.”

“I see…” Only the slightest amount of tension seemed to leave her body. Her lips were still parted, words seemingly on the tip of her tongue, but she lingered for a few long moments. Julian maintained his patient smile.

“There…there were times when perhaps he was acting a bit more standoffish than usual. He’s never been a very sociable man, but lately he seems to be avoiding most social events... I just assumed it was the stress of his job on the Council, that he was unprepared for such a high-profile position and all that came with it.” Her gaze flitted away.

Julian watched her carefully as she spoke. There were no signs of deception in her halting delivery. “It must have been a difficult adjustment for you as well,” he suggested.

“You could say that…” A humorless smile seemed to crinkle her eyes. “The house is nice, of course, nicer than anything I ever expected for us, but these damned security guards…”

“Does he have many?”

“Yes, and he insists I take at least one with me wherever I go,” she answered, irritation slipping into her voice. “I thought he was just paranoid after the uptick in protests and violence in the streets. Everyone on the Council has security teams but…” She inhaled and exhaled with deliberate steadiness. “I suppose it’s rather excessive…”

She seemed to have more to say, even as she dropped off into silence, taking the time to adjust her sanitary mask before her hands fell down into lap. Perhaps she needed a little prompting.

“How does he spend his time at home?” Julian asked carefully. “Does he spend any time communicating with colleagues through a console or personal comm?”

Ilya shook her head. “I wouldn’t know, actually. He spends a good amount of time in his basement study where he says he’s catching up on Council work…There’s always more work to do…God, if he really is working on war plans...” The realization brought fear fresh into her eyes.

“That’s why we need the code, Ilya,” Julian said softly, leaning forward on his knees. The basement was an interesting detail – because of course it had to be a basement – but that was something to consider later. This needed to wrap up very soon. “We wouldn’t ask you to retrieve these plans yourself; it would be far too dangerous. All we ask is that you leave it to us…And in return, I promise that no one will be hurt in the process. We’re experts at staying invisible, as I’m sure you’ve heard.”

“Can you stay invisible while evading eighty security guards? Because that’s about how many Teron – or whoever he is – has.”

Well, that was certainly an important detail. Odd, because Dukat had nowhere near that many guards when they infiltrated his house, and they had been lucky (or led by a well-prepared operative) not to run into any. Eighty guards in one relatively large estate? For a single council member?

But he kept all those thoughts from reaching his face. She was finally being cooperative, he was nearly there…

So he tried his best Cardassian smile, one he had quite a while to study. “We have our ways.”

She remained silent, and even though she had finally conceded the point of the Changeling, she wasn’t completely where they needed her…

But that was all right. He was a patient man, or at least he could play one, even as the shadow of the bodyguard lingered in his mental periphery. So he rose from his chair and stretched languorously, a few joints popping in his back. “Well, this is all rather tiring, isn’t it? I certainly could use a nap. These surgical alterations may have made me look young, but I’m nearly as old as him.” He gestured to Garak with a wicked grin. But it looked like it would take more than a few jokes to lighten the mood, so he returned to business. “And I’m sure this can’t be the most comfortable for you either. You’ll be free to walk out that door the moment you tell me the code.”

Her brow wrinkled with uncertainty as she eyed him carefully. “But how can I be certain of that? How can you be certain I won’t tell Teron everything you’re planning to do?”

She didn’t bend easily, even when they were at the cusp of it, but he still needed to tread lightly. Any attempt to rush things would only reveal their hand.

“Because I can tell you’re an intelligent woman, Ilya. And you know that he isn’t really your husband.” He took a step closer to the biobed, utilizing his height advantage the slightest bit. “We share the same goal, and I’m willing to extend you the trust required to accomplish it...”

He reached out and laid a hand gently on her shoulder, practically feeling Garak’s eyes on the back of his head, as he held her gaze for a few silent moments before offering the final nudge.

“…Are you?”

Ilya lowered her gaze, still visibly uncertain. He could feel the tension under his hand, but he kept it steady. When she spoke, he barely heard it.

“ _Iz-kUr-pa-Th-moh-ru.”_

“Thank you.” He could breathe a little easier now, even if he didn’t let her see that. He did, however, offer her a warm smile. “Really, we appreciate your cooperation...Cardassia appreciates your cooperation.” There, that sounded Cardassian enough.

And in one swift motion he drew out the hypo and pressed it against her neck, releasing the sedative into her bloodstream.

But she didn’t fall right away. There was a momentary flash of terror in her eyes before she succumbed, body falling slack. Julian eased her into it, guiding her back gently onto the biobed.

Garak was suddenly beside him.

“I presume she told you.”

“Yes. I have the code.” Julian slipped the recording device from his other pocket, holding it up to confirm it. A little light blinked back at him.

“Good. Then I suggest we finish up. We have already dragged this on for far –”

A gruff voice echoed through the field-muffled room. The bodyguard.

“Is everything all right in there? Mrs. Regnok?”

Julian drew another hypo from his pocket, the last critical step in this process, and placed it in Garak’s hand. “Here, I’ll take care of him. Give her the amnesic. It’s already prepped with the proper dosage.”

But first he located the portable field generator that Garak had hidden behind the console and deactivated it. Then he replaced his sanitary mask and was ready to face the bodyguard, quickly slipping out the door.

He found the guard looking just as impatient as he had sounded.

“I’m sorry for the delay,” Julian apologized, slipping easily back into his friendly and professional demeanor. “But there has been a complication. Ilya had an unforeseen reaction to the vaccine and temporarily lost consciousness, but we were just able to revive her. She’s in stable condition now.” He kept his eyes neutral and benign under the bodyguard’s gaze.

“I demand to see her, Doctor.”

“Of course.” Julian stepped aside and granted him entry, something he readily took advantage of. He could only hope Garak was prepared to receive visitors…and that said preparation had worked.

“…So you see, my dear,” came Garak’s voice as Julian followed in behind the bodyguard. “You were unconscious for about ten metrics before we were able to revive you – oh, hello.” He turned around and greeted the bodyguard pleasantly.

Ilya was slowly sitting up on the biobed, casting a hazy gaze around the room as she pressed a thumb to her _chufa_. When her eyes met Julian’s, she didn’t start.

The guard was immediately at her side. “Are you all right, Madam?” He placed a hand on her arm, protective and not at all gentle, as his gaze flickered back to the Humans suspiciously.

“I’m fine.” Ilya bristled under the bodyguard’s touch, quickly jerking away. “Just a negative reaction to the vaccine. I need to get back to the Finance Ministry, I’ve been gone too long already.” She held herself with the dignity befitting her position as she rose from the biobed, smoothing out the wrinkles in her dress before turning to Julian. “Thank you for the care, Doctor… I’m sorry, I seem to have forgotten you name.”

“El Fadil. Dr. El Fadil.”

 

* * *

 

The excitement was all but gone now. All the precise, analytical, single-minded focus had faded, leaving his mind drained and vulnerable to every thought he had suppressed. But out of all the thoughts that spun dizzyingly through his mind, the questioning and the analyzing and the reanalyzing, it was the eyes that kept returning. The eyes of Ilya after he pressed the hypo to her neck.

And then he could no longer hold himself upright, sinking down onto the couch under the enormity of what he had just done. His head fell into his hands, but that hardly helped lessen the pressure that pressed on his skull. Still, it was all he could do to analyze the swell of thoughts and emotions that had come rushing upon him. But he couldn’t analyze them, there were far too many, even for him…

Garak’s voice cut through the noise.

“Ah, there’s a conference on ‘Innovations in Phase Disruptor Technology’ in Lakarian City next week that might be suitable,” Garak announced from the console, pleasant as an afternoon stroll. “Yes, and here’s the guest list. It would be no trouble to slip his name onto it.”

He really shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was, because of course Garak would still be completely focused on their assignment, moving forward with what they had discussed and decided on the skimmer ride home, the ways they might lure Regnok and the majority of his security out of the city for one night, leaving his house unprotected. And if Julian was any sort of good operative, he would be just as focused, but god, how could he be after what he had done?

“All right, that’s fine,” he muttered in response.

His lack of enthusiasm didn’t pass unnoticed, it seemed, as Garak swiveled around to face him. “Do you think the subject of the conference wouldn’t appeal to him? I would assume the Dominion has quite an interest in the latest Cardassian weaponry.”

“I said it was fine.”

Even as he turned away he could feel Garak’s eyes linger on him. It only took a few seconds for the Cardassian to be beside him on the couch.

“My dear, you should be pleased with yourself!” Garak insisted, a strange mix of satisfied and bewildered. “Your first interrogation was a complete success! I must say I’m impressed with the initiative you showed. You even did an adequate job impersonating a man you’ve never met… A little too charming, perhaps, but it suited our purposes.” He punctuated his praise with a squeeze on Julian’s shoulder.

Julian reflexively withdrew from the touch, not in the mood for any affection from a man who offered _that_ as consolation. “She was my patient, Garak,” he said, searching those blue eyes for any actual help, as futile as that was. “She was my patient and I deceived her – I manipulated and traumatized her, held her as a prisoner inside the exam room. I gave her false hope when her real husband is most likely dead… I violated all that I believe in, all that I stand for as a doctor and as a Starfleet officer!”

Garak’s smile was no longer so bright. “Well, that’s a bit dramatic,” he said, far too flippant for Julian’s liking. “I believe the clinical definition of ‘traumatized’ requires a lasting effect. I fail to see how she can be traumatized if she has no memory of the event.” He took the time to make himself comfortable for what was sure to be a lengthy discussion, leaning back and stretching his arm across the back of the couch. “Really, our tactics were quite mild as far as interrogations go. Think of this as the next phase in your training if it makes you feel better.”

Well, that was what he should have anticipated. Really, he was a right and proper idiot for anticipating anything different. “Of course I can’t expect you to understand,” Julian returned, glaring at the man beside him. “You’re not a doctor, you have no…” But his words trailed off at the flash in Garak’s eyes.

“Compassion? That is what you were going to say, isn’t it?” He held Julian’s gaze almost lazily, still so measured in the face of Julian’s frustration. “Tell me, my dear, would it have been more compassionate to conduct this interrogation outside the hospital? To abduct her and transport her to some abandoned warehouse? Would _that_ have been less traumatic for her?” His voice rose with a little less indifference.

Julian gave no answer, gaze falling to his lap. He wouldn’t dignify him with the response he wanted, wouldn’t allow himself to be satisfied with such cold rationalization.

“This was our only opportunity to question someone near Regnok, and we made use of it,” Garak continued, returning to his patient instruction. “And before you start railing against interrogation again, let me remind you of all the options we already exhausted – ”

“Oh, spare me the lecture, Garak. I’m well aware of my failures.”

“Then I fail to understand what has you so upset. We have the code now. All that’s left to do is lure Regnok and his security out of the city and we’ll be able to retrieve those war plans. Don’t lose sight of the endgame, my dear.”

“Don’t you ‘my dear’ me!” Julian snapped. His patience for endearments had long since passed, and Garak was hardly placating him with such empty words of affection. “I haven’t lost sight of anything, but I’m not willing to sacrifice my principles in order to get there!”

Well, at least Julian got what he wanted, because Garak’s smile was now gone, and with it all attempts to hide his irritation.

“Oh, here we go with the proselytizing,” he sighed, rolling his eyes. “Have you ever considered that your precious principles might be too narrowminded? We were in no way excessively cruel – we used no enhancer, inflicted no physical discomfort – but we did what needed to be done. Perhaps we weren’t enormously hospitable to her, but we played the roles we needed to play…Besides, you seemed to enjoy using your charms on a woman again.”

There was a ridiculous look of accusation on Garak’s face, but god, how could _that_ be what bothered him about all of this? Could he really be that petty?

“Did I?” Julian fired back, suddenly very up for the challenge as he squared his shoulders. “Well you seemed a little too convincing in _your_ role!”

And suddenly there was a flash of anger in Garak’s eyes, not all too different from the erratic interrogator he had played, and for a moment Julian wasn’t sure what he might do with that wild look, if he might rage at him or strike him, but Julian refused to be intimidated and held his ground until a mouth suddenly crashed against his.

The force of the impact sent his body reeling back, saved only by the arms that clutched him unforgivingly, but he pushed through the shock and confusion and struggled to pull free from the man stealing his breath. He was definitely _not_ in the mood for this right now, but of course Garak was, of course he would think now was an appropriate time for this, but the damned Cardassian refused to release him, just gripping him tighter at every thrash, devouring the protests on his lips.

Well, if this was the way Garak wanted to fight, so be it. Julian surged forward, feeding all his frustration into Garak’s insistent mouth, countering his tongue and biting down on his lip, and it was enough to catch Garak off guard, to tilt the scales in his favor until he had Garak on the defensive, trying to counter the quick attacks of Julian’s mouth until Julian suddenly ripped away from the kiss.

“God, I can’t believe you’re thinking about sex right now,” he hissed, even as he heaved through his own breathlessness.

Garak answered by forcing their mouths back together – not much of a defense, but he obviously didn’t care – and this time he held nothing back, shoving Julian back onto the couch until his head slammed against the armrest. Julian let out a gasp against ravenous lips, but then Garak was sliding a hand behind his aching head and grasping his hair roughly, forcing his tongue deeper into Julian’s mouth, as if testing just how far he could probe, or just trying too hard to silence his protests. His other hand dug into the front of Julian’s shirt, keeping him pinned just where he wanted him.

And it was all Julian could do to keep a level head through all this, to maintain his irritation and indignation, even as a hard bulge brushed roughly against his own tightening trousers. But he wouldn’t let the blighter have this, wouldn’t be used for his pleasure – no, not after what had happened. And really, Garak was foolish for not restraining his hands...

So he slammed his hands down onto Garak’s shoulders and shoved him back, but he could only just get their mouths disconnected, Garak’s weight still trapping him beneath. And no matter how hard he bucked, he couldn’t dislodge the man on top of him.

Now he was quickly tiring of that stupid smug grin, glaring viciously at his captor. “This won’t make me any less angry at you, you know.”

“I don’t expect it to,” Garak said, and god, that voice was full of danger and raspy lust, the perfect combination to do all the rights things to Julian, but no, he wouldn’t be swayed by it.

Nor would he be swayed by the mouth that descended to devour him again, greedy and ruthless in its demands, a clash of tongues and lips and teeth, before he finally allowed him some air, dragging his mouth down to Julian’s throat.

“I’m not the most pleased with you either,” Garak muttered between unforgiving nips down Julian’s neck. “But that shouldn’t stop us.” He quickly reached a roadblock, but Julian’s tunic was no match for Garak’s deft fingers, ripping the fastenings open as he pulled the collar back to expose more flesh.

And oh, Garak really _was_ in some mood if he treated a garment like that, but that was the only thought Julian spared that phenomenon as teeth sunk down into the crook of his neck. 

And now Garak seemed engaged in an experiment, a challenge to see _just_ how many colors Human skin could turn, sucking on Julian’s shoulder as his hands fumbled down his body, those deft fingers moving to Julian’s trousers with hardly any more tact or patience, making short work of the zipper before starting to inch them down his legs, taking his briefs along with them.

But that was easier in theory than practice with the way they were lying, Garak’s body still pressed flat and heavy against Julian, and Julian was currently in no mood to assist, glaring at the ceiling as he bit back his gasps. So Garak offered Julian’s collarbone a final nip-and-suck before sitting up, still trying to pull down the trousers without dismounting from his entirely unwilling lover and his trapped arousal.

But it was hardly working any better, this awkward kneeling with his legs on either side of Julian’s hips, and the couch didn’t give him too much room to work with. A few clumsy attempts and he seemed to realize the futility of it, conceding his advantage to dismount and stand beside the couch just long enough to be rid of Julian’s pesky bottomwear.

“Is this how you settle your disputes on Cardassia?” Julian challenged as Garak disrobed his arse. “No wonder you have so much experience.”

But Garak wouldn’t be distracted from his purpose, his only response a sultry gaze, animal ferocity veiled thinly inside dark eyes.

Julian continued to allow this for a few more moments, because really, a bare arse would benefit him just as much at the moment. And he couldn’t help but sigh a little as his cock sprung free, slapping back against his lower belly, fully erect and throbbing for attention. A treacherous thing, really, but he was a little past the point of caring…

But as soon as his trousers and briefs were crumpled on the floor and Garak was trying to climb back aboard, Julian sprung forward and upset Garak’s balance, forcing him flat on his back against the couch.

This time it was Garak’s head that collided with the armrest.

And for a moment Julian paused before his prey with a smirk to rival any of Garak’s most ravenous looks. “Or can you simply not control yourself?”

He lurched toward, swallowing Garak’s attempt at a response like a man starved for kisses, one violent collision after the next, scarcely any time to breathe, every press a fiery revenge for every infuriating thing Garak had ever said or done.

No, Garak wouldn’t be allowed to return anything, no words or kisses and certainly no touches, as Julian seized his wrists and held them securely over his head.

Garak really did offer a valiant effort, wriggling and grunting and thrashing his legs, but he couldn’t break free from Julian’s grasp, and really, by the look in his eyes, it was as if he hadn’t been expecting that – an arrogant predator caught in his own trap. Good. It was about time Julian delivered some surprises.

And it really didn’t matter that Julian was open-shirted and bare-arsed, because he was finally in control, and he was very proud of that, thank you.

“Tell me, Garak, what happened to that oh so precious restraint of yours?”

But then Garak changed his tactics, snapping his hips up and grinding their erections together, clothed bulge against bare cock and balls, and oh how maddening was the feeling of fabric against his burning flesh…A low moan escaped through gritted teeth.

“Oh, forgive me for trying to corrupt such a sweet, virtuous boy…” Garak drawled, far too smug for the position he was in.

But Julian wouldn’t dignify him with a response right now, only half listening as he considered his next move, raking his eyes down his captive’s body – far too clothed, but there were still many wonderful possibilities…Yes…

And for a moment his instincts were urging him to venture out into the unknown, to wrestle Garak’s trousers off his legs and hitch them back and spread them wide and ram into Garak’s hole – his virgin hole, his never-before-touched arse – and pound all his emotions away into that tight warmth…

His cock seemed to pulse heavier at that image.

But no, even through all the rage and desire he knew how much it would hurt without any lubricant or preparation, knew all the injuries such a thoughtless action would cause – mucosal tears or anal fissures or even rectal perforations – and he would never inflict that upon Garak.

He pushed the fantasy aside. Maybe he would consider it later – on safer terms and with Garak’s agreement – but right now he could think of a few other things that would satisfy this hunger, and it hardly mattered that he hadn’t thoroughly cleaned himself since yesterday afternoon.

But as much as his desire urged him recklessly forward, he needed to be careful or his prey would easily escape him, so he kept one arm across Garak’s chest, legs braced on either side of his thighs to lock them securely in place.

Garak still offered him that tauntingly defiant grin, but Julian pointedly ignored it as he reached over the man’s head to grab a convenient bottle of scale oil on the end table, left over from the last time his arse had been pounded into the couch cushions.

Yes, it was about time they got on with this. His erection had been ignored for far too long, hard and flushed with just a small bead of pre-ejaculate, and it deserved some attention. Oh, but Garak’s cock was probably in the same state right now, tenting his scrubs without the least bit of subtlety…But no, it hadn’t exactly earned Julian’s usual tender devotion. It only deserved one thing right now…

He freed Garak’s erection quickly and efficiently, no petting or little strokes as it bobbed free from his trousers, and he didn’t even try to strip him further. This would do.

Garak growled deep in his chest as Julian’s oil-coated palm wrapped around his shaft, but Julian couldn’t care less what sorts of sounds Garak made, doing nothing to elicit them with his sloppy up and down slide of the shaft, no twists of the wrist or teasing of foreskin. He hardly would have been able to anyway, his other hand thoroughly occupied with his own preparation, one slick finger stretching his hole.

And Garak was watching all of this with his hands resting obediently on Julian’s hips, looking goddamn amused as he dragged his gaze ravenously to the erection that nudged against his own.

“Perhaps I have corrupted you, but you don’t exactly make it a challenge,” Garak chuckled darkly.

Julian promptly forced his hips still – when had they started thrusting on their own volition? – and matched Garak’s smirk perfectly. “Oh, is it a challenge you want?”

A clumsy knocking of limbs and Julian had managed to position himself properly, knees placed on either side of Garak’s hips as he grinded back against the stiff cock. He still had only one finger pistoning inside his hole, but that would have to be enough, he couldn’t wait any longer, so slid out and used that hand to guide Garak’s cock, giving it a few tries before he hit his mark, glans pushing past the first ring of muscle.

And oh, maybe he should have worked it open a little more first – this was the least amount of prepping he had ever done, and god did he feel it. Tears were threatening the corners of his eyes as he sank down further, and _ooh_ that was not pleasant as his inner ring of muscles was breeched, but no, he had to relax – tensing would only make it worse. Maybe this wasn’t such a brilliant idea…

Oh, but then a fist closed around his cock and started pumping, and then there were spikes of pleasure intermingling with the pain… And a face that was far too delighted by all this.

“Ah…” Garak sighed. “I fail to see how you simply giving me your hole constitutes a challenge.”

Julian slammed the rest of the way down and oh god – but it only _really_ burned for a few seconds before pleasure broke through again, erratic strokes lavishing his cock, and a breathless gasp escaped Julian’s control.

“This isn’t about you, Garak,” he huffed, still adjusting to the intrusion. But as lovely as that hand on his cock was, he wouldn’t allow Garak that smug satisfaction, prying it forcefully off of him and replacing it with his own hand. “I’m taking my pleasure on you.”

The rejected hand joined the other on Julian’s hips, a bruising and possessive squeeze.  But there was little Garak could do to conceal the delight on his face as Julian’s hole twitched around him.

“Oh, then by all means, Julian, continue to use me... But don’t expect me to just lie here passively.”

Garak snapped his hips and _fuck_ – a burst of pain seized Julian’s body, his cry coming out sharp and strangled, but it lasted only a moment before a wave of pleasure from his prostate overshadowed it, and suddenly he found he enjoyed this strange contradiction, these conflicting jolts of sensory overload, and yes, _more of this, please_ , his body was demanding it.

So he clamped a hand down on Garak’s shoulder and steadied himself, squeezing with revengeful grip as he worked his cock frantically. “That’s exactly what I expect from you…oh…”

Words were becoming a little more difficult as he continued to thrust back onto Garak’s cock, impaling himself fully and sliding off to nearly the tip, so he leaned forward and plunged his tongue into that infuriating mouth, put it to better use as he took his pleasure.

Yes, and what exquisite pleasure it was, his breath hitching at every sliding thrust, biting at the mouth that growled against his – god, Garak sounded so needy – as one leg slid off the couch to find firmer purchase, the other still trapped between Garak and the back of the couch, and there, that was much better. Luckily Cardassians designed their couches _just_ wide enough for this, like somehow they knew…

Garak pulled back from the kiss with a loud wet sound. “Then I’m afraid you’ll be –” A sharp inhale as Julian slammed down.  “– disappointed!” He took his revenge for the interruption, thrusting up in quick pistoning movements, and oh, Julian could hardly contain himself now, moaning and sputtering and returning in kind, faster and faster until their rhythm fell into complete rutting chaos.

 “If only you could see yourself…” Garak ground out in the midst of all of it. “Bouncing on my _prUt…_ masturbating shamelessly like a boy of the night…I’d take a holo if I could, just to show you what an incorrigible degenerate you really are.”

The pressure started to mount rapidly now, and oh, Garak’s eloquent dirty talk was _not_ helping, and normally Julian would dial it back a bit, try to pace himself, try to prolong this pleasure for both of them, but right now he needed to release all this tension, needed to slam down onto Garak and take his orgasm, needed to spill his seed all over Garak scrubs – always perfect, never a wrinkle – to soil and claim and use this infuriating man.

“Yet you’re allowing this…” he panted. “Allowing your body to be used for my pleasure…”

A surge of heat and his articulation gave way to a rush of unintelligible sounds, but he didn’t even try to bite them back, neighbors be damned, a mix of curses and fierce, animalistic grunts, bouncing and wringing and fucking himself until there was a heavy tightening in his balls and oh, his climax was swelling now, crashing down on him in violent spasms –  

And fuck, it was far more intense than it had any right to be, shooting out with a force he hadn’t seen in a long time, splashing onto Garak’s chest and throat and a few droplets on his chin and mouth, but that only made matters worse as pleasure mercilessly wracked his body, one gloriously long moment until gradually, finally, it all began to fade into a haze of senseless bliss.

Except that Garak’s hips were still thrusting away, bucking up into his hole, suddenly terribly sensitive and quivering with aftershocks, and a few violent slams was all it took for the pleasure to pour out of Garak, only a few staccato grunts before he fell silent.

Julian was vaguely aware of a distant whimpering sound, but it took a few thrumming moments to realize they were his own sounds, promptly stopping them when he caught Garak’s gaze.

Their gazes were both a bit clearer now, the world falling back around them, chests heaving and bodies still interlocked, and then it returned to him, the reason they had ended up in such a position. But no, he couldn’t bring himself to dwell on such problems just yet, not when oxytocin was still flooding his brain and his feet were tingling and his thighs were shaking, so he slowly slid off of Garak’s softening cock, breath hitching as his anus burned in protest.

He was far too warm now, his abdomen nearly dripping with sweat under his shirt, and Garak probably wasn’t much better off, still fully clothed, and the air was heavy with the smell of sex, but he didn’t quite have the energy to do anything about it.

So he collapsed onto Garak and reclaimed his mouth, not really bothered when he tasted a bit of himself on Garak’s salty lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout-out to Tetris master [the_last_dillards](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_last_dillards) for helping me figure out the position logistics for the last scene.
> 
> Tune in next week for a new doctor and some interference.


	34. Doctors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian is assigned a new supervisor on the plague project. Telma ties up a loose end.

Julian awoke the next morning in a rather pleasant mood. Oh, there were a few minor aches in his thigh muscles and anus, and the usual layer of sweat coating his skin, but besides that he was content to lie peacefully for a few more minutes, his lover’s body molded snugly against his back.

He still reveled in that touch, even after the heated words that had passed between them last night. It hadn’t really been resolved – not in the true sense of the word – no emotional heart-to-heart or traded apologies, but neither of them had the energy to continue the argument after their bodies had done most of the work. He was hardly one to be exhausted by one round – sleepy, yes, but he had an impressive amount of stamina, thank you – but that little shag had taken more out of him than usual. And Garak, with his two-minute refractory period, had seemed in the same state, staying beneath Julian for far longer than he usually did.

And honestly, that had probably been their most aggressive lovemaking yet, and as exhilarating as it had been, it wasn’t without its consequences. Julian had found a small amount of blood on his wipe during their postcoital cleaning, and a tricorder scan of his anus revealed a minor mucosal tear. Garak had been kind enough to help heal it with the regenerator – it wasn’t exactly an area he could reach himself – but couldn’t go without offering at least one colorful criticism of Julian’s hastiness and voracious appetite.

But the air became lighter between them after that, and when the time came to turn in for the night, they were reading amicably side by side in bed, Julian still trudging through _Behind the Mask_ while Garak continued his perusal of George Orwell’s _1984._ He had only started reading that piece of twentieth-century Earth literature a week ago upon Julian’s request – it was in the spirt of their cultural exchange, after all, and one of the few fiction novels Julian had packed among his padds of medical journals. He had a feeling Garak would like this one more than his usual recommendations.

Now Garak was stirring from his sleep, arms wrapping tighter around Julian’s body, and he couldn’t help but lean back into that touch. No, he hadn’t forgotten the words that were exchanged yesterday, but it was a little hard to stay indignant after giving the matter more thought during the night. Yes, it had still been an ethically questionable act, especially given his profession, but as much as he hated to admit it, Garak made a compelling argument. Out of all their options, all of the scenarios he had meticulously calculated, this had been one of the least destructive. The ends didn’t justify the means, but had the means really been so terrible when placed in a broader context?

And now with this security code they had obtained, they would soon be able to save Cardassia from Dominion rule, save Ilya and the rest of the innocents… as soon as they managed to lure Regnok out of the city.

That might take a bit of time to accomplish, but in the meantime life continued much as it had been. It was just another morning at Central Hospital when they arrived for their shift, no different from yesterday morning before this “phase four” had begun. There wasn’t much more to be done while they waited for Regnok’s response to his formal invitation, so for the first time in a while Julian could focus fully on his medical research. And really, it was nice to finally be making progress again.

But if it wasn’t his own thoughts distracting him, then it seemed some external force would have to step in, because not long after Julian started comparing his patients’ most recent lung tissue samples, Parmak called him over his wrist comm, requesting a meeting in his office.

“You wanted to see me, Doctor?” Julian asked as he entered Parmak’s office, slipping off his sanitary mask.

Parmak looked up from his padd-laden desk, quick to stifle a yawn. “Good morning, Dr. El Fadil. Yes, please have a seat. There have been a few changes I’d like to discuss.” His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, it seemed as Julian approached, but he waited until Julian had made himself comfortable before beginning to explain. “I’m afraid I will no longer be overseeing your research at this hospital.”

Julian blinked, immediately concerned, and it was difficult to keep all traces of worry off his face. “Have you been forced to resign?”

“No, nothing like that,” Parmak said, allowing Julian to breathe a bit easier. “I am permitted to retain my position here, but the Science Ministry is no longer satisfied with my supervisory role on the plague project.”

“I see…” Julian sat back, taking a moment to consider it, but he didn’t like the conclusion he came to. “Does this have anything to do with the report I sent them last week?”

Parmak nodded. “That may have contributed to this decision. It seems Councillor Ferrok is growing impatient for results, but has a very limited medical background. I doubt he understands all the research and testing that is involved in the development of a new antibiotic. It can take years…”

“And that’s hardly your fault,” Julian pointed out as Parmak trailed into silence. Yes, it _could_ take years, but it had never taken _him_ quite that long. “If anything, the Science Ministry should be displeased with my performance.”

Parmak frowned, pressing a finger to his _chufa_. “And they probably are, I’m afraid. But Kotan Pa’Dar was very confident in your abilities, so for now Ferrok just believes you require a more proactive hand to guide you. I’ll admit I haven’t been the most hands-on in assisting you…”

“Well you’ve hardly been given the time with all your other duties, even if I had needed the extra help,” Julian countered, leaning forward in his chair. “You’ve supplied all of the resources and equipment I need.” Even if he hadn’t been in the lab every day with him, Parmak had provided him with preliminary research to build upon, and he was always available for questions. The Science Ministry had no reason to blame him for the plague project’s slow pace, and it was hard not to share Parmak’s barely concealed frustration.

But Parmak’s face seemed to brighten a little at that, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “I appreciate your support, but I can understand the Science Ministry’s concerns,” he said, toying with a stylus idly. “Apparently there are some in the Civilian Assembly who do not want me to remain as the chief physician at this hospital, so this is really not as bad as it could be. They’re sending over a doctor from Central Command to be your new advisor on this project. He should be here…” Parmak paused, eyes flicking to the chronometer, when his door suddenly chimed. “Ah, right on time. Come in.”

And before Julian could even try to ask _why_ the Science Ministry thought a military doctor would be the most effective replacement, if they had somehow lost faith in the civilians, the doors parted to admit this replacement. He was an older man, dressed in scrubs that were nothing like the standard issue attire of Central Hospital, a sturdier black and grey fabric with a design reminiscent of Central Command uniforms, his shoulder ridges on prominent display.

And yes, he was older than Parmak and Garak, if his grey hair was a reliable indicator, but he looked in better shape than either of them – not slightly overweight like Garak or stoop-backed like Parmak. With that lean, muscular physique, he was built more like a soldier than a doctor.

Julian and Parmak stood to greet him.

“Good morning, Dr. Rhemeny,” Parmak said amiably, far brighter than he had been a moment ago. “Let me introduce you to my colleague Dr. El Fadil.”

Dr. Rhemeny. Julian knew that name immediately. The doctor who had conducted Pa’Dar’s autopsy, the doctor who had helped Dukat get away with murder. But he swallowed that realization with a steady gulp, offering his friendliest smile to his new supervisor. “A pleasure to meet you, Doctor.”

But Rhemeny barely offered him a glance as he surveyed his surroundings, removing his sanitary mask like a man coming up for air. “Is this to be my office? It’s rather small…” he said as he looked around the office that was nearly the size of DS9’s infirmary.

Parmak’s smile didn’t waver, but he held his shoulders more stiffly than usual. “No, your office will be room 408.”

“Good. I’ll also need a lab.”

“The hospital will see to all your accommodations shortly,” Parmak promised.

And suddenly Rhemeny’s eyes landed on Julian like he had just noticed he was there, and he took a step toward him. “You’re Dr. Enfendir, I presume.”

“It’s El Fadil, actually,” Julian corrected politely.

Rhemeny continued as if he hadn’t heard that, speaking far more slowly and loudly than he had a moment ago, his annunciation exaggerated as he gestured widely with his hands. “I will be leading the plague project from now on.”

“So I’ve been informed,” Julian answered, trying not to let his smile droop. But yes, he had already formed quite the opinion of this man. “Feel free to talk normally to me, Doctor. I speak Kardasi just fine.”

“Ah.” Rhemeny’s eyes widened for a second, then flicked over him skeptically. “I wasn’t certain with that accent. But no matter, I’m sure you’ll learn proper Kardasi from me soon enough.”

And yes, he really should remain polite and professional, but Julian couldn’t help but mutter a sarcastic “Oh, good, I’m so relieved,” as Rhemeny conducted his own tour of Parmak’s office.

Rhemeny didn’t seem to hear, but Parmak probably did, offering Julian an apologetic shrug when their eyes met. He didn’t seem all that surprised by this man’s strange manner, so it was likely he was already familiar with him. He offered him more leniency than Julian would have afforded, waiting until Rhemeny was stooped over a console screen studying a diagram to call the focus back to the reason for Rhemeny’s visit.

“Well, why don’t we all have a seat and make ourselves comfortable?” Parmak asked, leading by example.

Rhemeny perked up. “A cup of oceanleaf tea would be most comforting at the moment.”

Parmak moved to oblige, ever the gracious host, but Julian stopped him. “That’s all right, Dr. Parmak. I’m closer. Would you like anything?” he asked. Besides, Rhemeny had already claimed the seat he had been sitting in.

“A cup of _gelat_ , thank you.” Parmak offered him a grateful smile.

Julian crossed the room to the replicator, taking the few extra moments to decide how he wanted to approach this sudden change, when he heard a loud whisper coming from the other end of the office. And by the way Rhemeny was speaking, it seemed he was one of those unfortunate Cardassians who underestimated the keenness of Human hearing.

“Your hospital may be struggling, Dr. Parmak, but I hope it’s clear that I will be practicing here only until I develop this antibiotic, and not a moment longer,” Julian heard over the beep of the replicator. “I have left my patients in capable hands, but I am loath to be away for long. My duty is to our Union’s stalwart soldiers, not these civilians.”

“I understand,” Parmak answered evenly. “We wouldn’t expect anything more.”

“I can assure you it’s not a sacrifice I particularly enjoy, but one I find necessary. Glinn Aghet will not be the last of our troops to contract the Rudellian plague if your vaccine supply remains as limited as it is, and with research advancing at such an abysmal pace. We have already lost two hundred soldiers on the outer colonies to this plague. We do not need another enemy on the battlefield, Doctor.”

“I agree it’s critical that we find a cure, and I’m optimistic that –”

But Rhemeny continued on. “Frankly I’m rather baffled by the way this project has been managed. Appointing a _Human_ to spearhead this research? If this hospital is in such a condition that it requires extraplanetary assistance, then so be it, but I would think replicating or administering vaccines would be far more appropriate work for them.”

“I can assure you that Dr. El Fadil is a qualified and brilliant doctor,” Parmak replied, not quite as placating now. “He has been working tirelessly on this research, and has made some great strides, as he will brief you on shortly.”

Julian chose that moment to reenter the conversation with two steaming mugs, smiling as if he hadn’t just heard his new supervisor disparage his professional credibility as he delivered the oceanleaf tea. But as irritating as that was, he was sure to give Parmak a grateful smile and a brush of the fingers as he handed him his _gelat_.

They all exchanged a few casual words as Julian pulled up another chair in front of Parmak’s desk, already considering his first question. If Rhemeny was here, even for a short while, there were a few things Julian might be able to learn if he approached the topic carefully.

“So you’re with Central Command, I’ve heard,” he began conversationally. “I’m not very familiar with its medical division. Are your patients limited strictly to the military, or do you ever see civilians?” Or a civilian’s remains…

And Julian maintained a placid smile, even when Rhemeny turned a scrutinizing eye on him.

“Only under very unique circumstances,” the older doctor answered, looking him up and down.

There were a few more things Julian would have liked to ask, but they weren’t exactly the most discreet of questions. So he held them back, chewing the inside of his cheek until Rhemeny spoke again.

“I’ve heard of your talents, Dr. Elfa’adal, but I must wonder at your age. You look rather young, unless Humans age far slower than Cardassians.”

Julian’s smile wavered slightly, not really sure how to respond to that, because suddenly this felt like a job interview, that this stranger had come to usurp his role and was now considering if he was worth keeping around.

“I’m thirty-one,” Julian answered, schooling his voice into easy confidence. “I completed my residency at the London Medical Academy last year, where I obtained my degrees with an emphasis in interspecies medicine.”

“Ah, then I suppose that explains your report to the Science Ministry.”

“Pardon?”

Rhemeny took a long tip of his tea before elaborating. “I was rather surprised to see some of the microorganisms you have been studying, ones that have already failed to produce antibiotics that are effective against antibiotic-resistant bacteria in previous research. It would have saved time and resources if you had known to avoid those mistakes. Someone more familiar with Cardassian microbiology should have told you.” His glance drifted scathingly to Parmak. “Yes, it seems the Science Ministry was right to request my aid here. Perhaps now there will be substantial progress made in developing this antibiotic.”

 

* * *

 

It had been three days since Dr. Rhemeny had assumed supervision of the plague project, but as far as Julian was concerned, that was three days too many. Yes, Rhemeny was certainly knowledgeable and efficient, and he brought a new perspective to the project, but he was hardly the most pleasant to work with – bordering on insufferable, actually.

Rhemeny hadn’t made a very favorable first impression in Parmak’s office, and the longer Julian spent in his company, the worse his opinion became of the older doctor. Well, at least the Science Ministry would be happy, because Rhemeny was certainly guiding with a more proactive hand than Parmak – micromanaging was a more accurate word.

Rhemeny spent their first day together picking apart all of Julian’s research and previous clinical trials, pointing out every “obvious” mistake that a Cardassian would have never made. Apparently Julian had wasted quite a substantial amount of time exploring ideas that had no chance of success. But his criticism always ended with a subtle jab at Parmak’s negligence, like someone blaming a guardian for a child’s misbehavior. And that was probably how Rhemeny saw it, because he didn’t seem to view Julian’s cognitive processes as any more developed than those of child.

Of course Julian had had to work with his fair share of uncooperative people, but never had a colleague or advisor treated him like this, with insults less veiled than any proper Cardassian would utter. And he had worked with Vulcans! At least the Jem’Hadar on Bopak III had considered him a threat. There was some respect in that.

And that wasn’t even considering the moral character of this man he was working under, the things he had done to Kotan Pa’Dar, whatever exactly they had been. He might very well be involved deeper in the Dominion plot, but it wasn’t clear if that involvement went past complicity in a murder and relinquishment of the victim’s remains to the perpetrator.

But as much as Rhemeny rubbed him the wrong way, he had held his tongue for the most part. He asked only the subtlest of questions, like if Rhemeny had many wounded soldiers as patients (Rhemeny’s vague answer was probably to cover up the continuing military defeats), but that was all he had risked so far. And there wasn’t much else he could do since Rhemeny didn’t seem to have a personal comm and he wouldn’t be stupid enough to use his office computer for anything suspicious. It was bad enough Julian’s less than spectacular performance had reflected negatively on Parmak – the last thing he wanted to do was draw this doctor’s eye too closely on him.

Yes, he and Garak still needed to be very careful as they waited for an opportunity to infiltrate Regnok’s estate. They hadn’t had much luck yet since Regnok had declined the first invitation, citing a previous engagement that was impossible to verify without access to any of Regnok’s devices, but they were currently in the process of finding another event that might entice him to leave the city for a night.

In the meantime, it looked like Julian would have to deal with this doctor – and just when his antibiotic’s clinical trials had really started to show promise. Lunch couldn’t have come soon enough, and if anyone noticed him walking a little more briskly out of the isolation ward, he hardly cared. He was just grateful for the escape. After another morning collaborating with Rhemeny – if having every idea constantly challenged and belittled was considered collaborating – he needed this lunch with Garak.

But Garak had already started without him, he found as he entered his office, a few bites missing from the minced _zabu_ pie that Garak sat behind.

“Sorry I’m late,” Julian apologized, juggling a handful of padds before setting them on his desk. He was determined to get at least _some_ research done while out of Rhemeny’s grasp.

Garak was suddenly in front of him, pulling off Julian’s sanitary mask and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. It lasted only a second before Garak pulled back, examining his face closely.

“My dear, there are far too many wrinkles on your forehead for a man your age. If you keep making that face you’ll soon have more wrinkles than _this_ face.” He made an elaborate gesture to his own face.

But Julian could only respond with a tired half-smile before crossing the room to the replicator, his stomach already grumbling its complaints.

“What, no indignant retort? My, you really _are_ in a mood…”

Julian sighed, tapping his order into the replicator. “I’m sorry, it just this Dr. Rhemeny…”

“Ah, let me guess,” Garak said, retaking his seat at the table. “Not the most cooperative fellow.”

“God, it’s infuriating!” He paused only long enough to grab his _tojal_ stew and flatbread from the replicator, launching directly back into it as he sat down across from Garak. “He’s just the sort of man you would expect from Central Command, even though he’s a doctor – arrogant, rude, self-righteous, not to mention an accomplice to Pa’Dar’s murder. And he’s commandeered over half of Laboratory D!”

“Oh dear.” Garak looked up from the napkin he was dabbing primly to his lips. “But that’s your favorite laboratory!”

Julian decided to take that as support, even if it was tinged with a little too much shock. “But for all his self-aggrandizing, he really doesn’t seem that brilliant,” he continued, gesturing with a piece of flatbread. “I took a peek at his research, and he’s experimenting with _kaghey_ mold.”

“My goodness! I can’t imagine why he would do such a thing!”

“I can’t either!” Yes, of course Garak understood, even if his eyes were twinkling with laughter. But Julian was a little too distracted to engage in their usual banter. “The antibiotic it produces is toxic when injected or ingested, and its only known use is in topical ointments for skalima.”

Garak’s smile drooped into a contemplative line, a much more appropriate expression for this conversation. “Flaky scales. I’m quite familiar with that one, but I don’t see how that would translate to a lung disease.”

“Exactly,” Julian said around a spoonful of stew. “But he’s made it quite clear he thinks the thyprokozin antibiotic I’ve been testing is another dead end, even though there have already been some improvements in Mizda and Ekoh.” Granted, they were the only ones to show improvements during this trial, and their conditions had already been more stable than his other patients, despite battling the plague the longest. His treatments seemed to have slowed the _rudeli petis_ bacteria’s reproduction, at least in portions of the lungs. But for all that Rhemeny had criticized his work, the older doctor didn’t bother to explain his own.

“Ah, I can see how that’s frustrating.”

“It’s maddening,” Julian groaned, unleashing his frustration onto his flatbread. A few more seconds and he had devoured the wafer, turning hungrily back to his stew. “I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to work with him.”

Garak looked up from the pie he was still slowly picking at, suddenly very interested in Julian’s face, giving a long scrutinizing look. “But there’s something more that’s bothering you, is there not?” His blue eyes seemed to pierce through Julian, and it wasn’t the most pleasant feeling. “This isn’t the first time you’ve had to work with a difficult colleague, I’d imagine.”

Julian couldn’t help but sigh, not really surprised Garak had picked up on that with his uncanny abilities of perception. But even so, it wasn’t something he was eager to discuss…

“No, I suppose you’re right…as always.”

“You’ll come to expect that soon enough, dear.” Garak offered his best teasing grin, but it was hardly effective.

Julian cast a glance to his quickly cooling stew, but he no longer felt so hungry. These thoughts had been floating around his head for a while now, mostly ignored, but the changes during the last few days made them difficult to avoid anymore.

“Honestly, I can’t blame the Science Ministry for growing impatient,” he admitted, hands falling to the table. “I was brought here to do one job, and I have still not accomplished it. I really should have found the cure by now, especially when Parmak has already done much of the groundwork isolating the bacteria and developing a vaccine, but my antibiotics continue to fail.”

And if he continued to fail, it was only a matter of time before the Science Ministry tired of him completely and sent him away.

But Garak wouldn’t be persuaded to share his despair, it seemed, gaze locked onto him firmly. “This isn’t something you should allow to discourage you, dear. Where’s that famous Julian Bashir tenacity? I realize failure is not something you find easy to cope with, but that is no reason to despair.”

“Yes, I’ve had my fair share of failures as an operative, but this is different,” Julian admitted with a sigh. “I only started operative work recently, but I’ve been studying and practicing medicine my entire adult life. This is my profession. Interspecies medicine is my specialization. Honestly I can’t understand why I’m still unable to cure this plague…Maybe I just haven’t devoted enough energy to it.”

Yes, he had failed before as a doctor, but that was never an acceptable option, not with so many lives on the line. There had already been approximately 10,000 deaths in the colonies according to the last reports from their makeshift clinics. He couldn’t allow another failure. He couldn’t allow another Quickening.

After the Pentathian farmer had died, he had promised himself he would do everything possible to stop this plague, and yet it had infected four others in Cardassia City after that – one of whom was dear to Garak – and had continued to take the lives of civilians and soldiers offworld. But he was removed from most of the death, only tasked with the care of seven patients, which was nothing compared to the clinics in the outer colonies, so perhaps it was easy to forget the urgency of this plague crisis…

Still, these seven lives he saw every day were just as important. What had happened to his resolve? Had he been too distracted by assassination plots and war plans to invest himself fully in his profession? Yes, those were also important, but _this_ was who he was…

“My dear.” The clang of Garak’s fork interrupted Julian’s thoughts. “The Rudellian antibiotic is hardly the first cure to elude brilliant doctors. My medical knowledge may be far more limited than yours, but I am under no illusions that the development of a new drug is a quick and easy process.”

“I know that, but…” But he wasn’t just any brilliant doctor. If he couldn’t use these genetic enhancements to help people, these unfair, unnatural alterations that had been forced upon a confused child, then…but he couldn’t say that to Garak. Not now, maybe not ever…

Silence fell between them as Julian limply picked up his spoon, shoveling a few lukewarm helpings of stew into his mouth. Garak too continued the laborious process he considered to be proper dining, content to let the silence linger until Julian wished to break it.

And they remained that way until a beep from Garak’s wrist comm disrupted the silence.

“Ah, I’m afraid that’s the end of my lunch break,” Garak announced, rising from his seat with half of his pie still left on his tray. He returned the remains to the replicator before slipping on his sanitary mask. “We can continue this discussion after our shift, if you so desire.”

Julian only nodded absently, still deep in thought as he reanalyzed the set of calculations that had convinced him he was on the right track with his antibiotic. But when he chanced a glance up, the sight of Garak at the door caught his attention, and perhaps he had been a little too focused on himself just now…

“Elim, wait.” He crossed the room to where Garak stood, tugging down Garak’s sanitary mask for a quick kiss. “Thank you.”

Garak blinked. “Whatever for?”

“For listening to me vent. I really do appreciate it.”

 

* * *

 

The afternoon had hardly proved more productive with Rhemeny still breathing down his neck, providing invaluable instruction at every turn, but there was still an hour left of his shift by the time Julian managed to escape again. He wasted no time heading for his office, determined to make up for some of the time Rhemeny’s interference had wasted.

As much as he wanted to stay late and give his research the hours it deserved, that was simply not an option with the work that awaited them every evening, that they sometimes let pile up if they became too distracted with far more intriguing endeavors. But Garak still had his decryption algorithms to adjust, and Julian had his daily surveillance records to review.

The halls were teeming with people now as it approached the evening, and Julian had narrowly avoided several collisions as he powerwalked his way across the hospital. It wasn’t until he was rounding a corner on the first floor that he actually bumped into someone, brushing shoulders roughly.

“Sorry, I…” But his apology trailed off when he met the other man’s eyes. “Rugal? What are you doing here?”

Rugal’s gaze flicked over him, and the expression on his face was strange and unfamiliar. “I had an appointment…I’m sorry, do I know you?”

Julian blinked. Obviously Rugal was just playing it safe in case they were being watched – they were out in the open after all – but there was a blank and puzzled look in his eyes, not a hint of recognition to reassure him. And this seemed different than when they had first met at the free hospital. Rugal’s gaze wasn’t just neutral now, but clouded with confusion, frequently eyeing Julian’s forehead. So either he had become an incredible actor, or…

“I…no, I’m sorry. I mistook you for someone else. Please excuse me.”

He tried to restrain his steps to a brisk walk as he continued on his way, crossing the last few hallways to the safety of his office. Once his mask was off, he lifted his wrist.

“Andy, please come to my office.”

He didn’t need to pace for long before Garak appeared, eyes as bright and pleasant as ever, as if he hadn’t a care in the world. He played it so brilliantly, didn’t he?

“My dear…” Garak pulled off his mask to reveal a warm smile. “Was there something you needed, or could you no longer stand to be apart?”

Julian gave no immediate response, restraining himself until the doors had whooshed shut behind Garak before closing in on him.

“I can’t believe you, Garak!” he hissed, anger confined to a harsh whisper. “To not only go behind my back after you promised we would work together on this, but to go against my express wishes and do such a thing?”

But Garak had the nerve to blink at him with such confused innocence, and god that man’s talent for deception was infuriating.

“Would you mind explaining what egregious acts I’ve committed?”

“Don’t play innocent with me, Garak,” Julian seethed, nearly a growl. He had no patience for these games anymore. “I know what you did to Rugal.”

There was just a brief flash of understanding on Garak’s face before his confusion returned, eyeing Julian with pursed lips and a tilted head. “Honestly, dear, I don’t understand why you’re so upset,” he said evenly. “I thought you would approve of sending him to Deep Space Nine.”

“Deep Space Nine? What are you talking about?”

“The freighter captain I’ve been attempting to contact to book passage for Rugal…” Garak answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Is that not what you’re talking about?”

Julian blinked. God, _still_ with this obfuscation? Even after all that these couple months had taken them through, this bond that was forming tighter and tighter, Garak was still what he always was, still reverting to his old ways. And what incredible arrogance to think Julian had had any effect on that.

“No, I’m talking about how you erased his memory of…well, of the last three weeks at least.” Maybe even longer, because Rugal seemed to have zero recollection of him, as if he his appearance were completely foreign.

Garak took a step closer, but there was no intimidation in his stance this time. “I can assure you, my dear, I have not tampered with his memories. The whole reason for sending him offworld was to avoid that.”

But Julian couldn’t believe that, not after all the lies that sincere expression had told over Garak’s long career. “Please don’t lie to me, Garak!” he shot back, sounding more like a plea than he had intended. “I thought we were past all that! I just saw Rugal in the hall and he didn’t recognize me. He didn’t know me at all.”

“I’m not lying to you, Julian. I didn’t think it was worth telling you until I was certain I could find a freighter captain willing to smuggle the boy off Prime, but I did nothing to his memories.”

And there was something in his frown that caught Julian off guard. It was subtle, barely visible behind that defensive mask Garak almost always wore, but he had seen it – a flash of hurt. Perhaps that sincerity was a little more sincere than he had assumed…

God, had he really just…? But no, there would be time to deal with that later, because right now he had more pressing matters to attend to.

“Then who…?” But he didn’t need to finish the question. _Of course_. He should have suspected her from the start, because of course she knew about Rugal’s involvement somehow.

He rushed to the console and pulled up the hospital schematics, searching for Telma’s point on the map. And there she was, leaving an exam room on the third floor, headed for the laboratory next door. She appeared to be alone.

He didn’t stop to slip on his mask or explain any of this to Garak – he had probably drawn the same conclusion – whisking out of his office and down the hallway, weaving as quickly as he could around traffic. Maintaining a low profile was only a vague concern at this point. It wasn’t as if no one had seen a doctor rushing through the halls before.

It was only after he had barreled into the lab, finding Telma alone and eyeing him curiously, did he remember the possibility of surveillance devices. This wasn’t his office. But at least there was one way around it.

He ignored Telma’s gaze for the moment, grabbing a tray of freshly sterilized instruments and sticking them back into the sonic sterilizer. A low hum filled the room.

“Well, how was Rugal’s appointment?” he asked, barely above a whisper. “Did you have to sedate him before administering the amnesic, or did you just tell him it was a vaccine?”

But even that couldn’t catch Telma off guard, it seemed, because her eyes remained as calm as ever, that smile tugging at her lips with no mask to hide it. “Quite a few assumptions in those questions,” she observed, almost lazily. “What makes you so sure I was involved? Has a certain Cardassian really sworn off his treacherous ways after a few nights in your bed?”

Julian frowned. “Garak swore he wasn’t involved in this. And I believe him.” She was hardly the one to dissuade him of that, anyway, especially when that seemed to be her goal.

“How heartwarming.” Telma grinned, laughter in her eyes. “I must commend you, Julian. You’re really honing your powers of perception. Or deduction in this case, but a valuable skill regardless.”

If she was trying to obfuscate, he wouldn’t have any of it. “So you admit to tampering with Rugal’s memories.”

“I admit to cleaning up your mess,” Telma answered, tone falling a little flat. “Honestly, I was rather disappointed Garak didn’t take care of this himself. His infatuation must be overriding his sense. The power of the _prUt_ , as the saying goes.” Her gaze dragged down Julian’s body with a mocking grin.

As much as Julian wanted to keep glaring at her, he had to remember that video surveillance was still active in the lab. So he found a nearby tricorder and hand scanner and turned away, proceeding to recalibrate them.

“He was trying to arrange passage for Rugal to Deep Space Nine!” he hissed softly. Really, this argument was difficult to have at such low volumes. “Rugal would have been safe there without altering his mind.”

“Ah. Well Garak failed to inform me of his plans.”

His anger was quickly mounting now, but no, he had to restrain himself, had to keep his gaze fixed on his work. “So you just erased three weeks’ worth of memories from the boy?” he asked the hand scanner, keeping the woman in his periphery. “Does he even know that his father is dead?” His grip on the tricorder tightened.

“Really, Julian, don’t be so dramatic,” Telma scoffed, leaning against the counter. “I only erased the memories that involved you or Pa’Dar’s personal logs. That’s hardly cruel or excessive. But I must assume Garak isn’t very familiar with subject-targeted memory erasure if he didn’t suggest it. It’s a bit of a more involved process than your amnesic, but rest assured that Rugal has made a full recovery.”

Julian’s head snapped back up toward her, not liking the sound of that at all. “If you hurt him…”

“Why would I hurt him?” Telma shrugged, still smiling. “I have no reason to. He came here quite willingly when he received a message from the office of Dr. Siddig El Fadil, and he was quite unconscious for the actual procedure.”

Julian glowered at her, no longer so concerned with hiding his indignation, but he really shouldn’t have been surprised that she would send a message in his name. She had already shown herself capable of worse.

“So you tricked him into coming here to have his memory violated,” he said flatly.

“That’s an interesting way of putting it.” Telma raised an eye ridge, dark eyes twinkling. “I’m starting to think you don’t trust me, Julian.”

Really, what had given her that impression? But he held back his sarcasm, meeting her gaze pointedly. “How do you expect me to trust you when you do this?”

“You mean do what had to be done?” she returned, a little less patient now. “I might have saved your lives and Rugal’s by eliminating this liability. Really, Julian…” She shook her head and tutted, too much like Garak when he lamented Julian’s shortcomings. “I was so pleased with your improvement. I thought you were finally starting to realize that some things must be done for the sake of a greater goal, unpleasant as they are.”

Julian eyed her carefully… just how much did this woman know? But before he could ask why she had drawn that conclusion, she had moved on.

“Have you ever seriously considered the risks that Rugal’s knowledge posed to both himself and us?” Her smile was all but gone. “Rugal may indeed be trying to stay out of trouble, but the company he keeps is a little less cautious. I’m sure you’ve heard of the raid on the East Torr _geleta_ house.” She took a step closer to the whirring sonic sterilizer. “Two of Rugal’s roommates were among those arrested. It’s only a matter of time before the constables bring Rugal in for questioning regarding his friend’s subversive behavior. Be thankful they have a lot of dissidents to sort through right now. I should have done this sooner, but I had assumed Garak would take care of it.”

“He was trying to.”

“Yes, but now he doesn’t need to bother with all that. Rugal doesn’t pose a threat to us anymore.”

There were quite a few more things Julian wanted to say, but he held his tongue for the moment, taking the time to consider her words. But even with this new information, it was impossible to tell who or what she really was. As much as he would like to believe Starfleet Intelligence wouldn’t condone her behavior, that they didn’t operate this way…well, how could he be certain? Rugal hadn’t been hurt, at least not from what Julian had seen in the hall, but he probably hadn’t been the most comfortable either…

He bit back a sigh and met her gaze. “All right, but there were other ways you could have done this. You could have at least told me about the –”

The sonic sterilizer let out a beep and the humming stopped, plunging the room into silence.

Telma was quick to fill it, her smile returning to its full brightness. “Always lovely to chat with you, Dr. El Fadil. Give my best to Nurse Robinson.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The line about Julian's forehead wrinkles was inspired by one of my favorite lines in _A Stitch in Time_ (because you know Andy has made this observation about Sid before): "He gave me his puzzled look, which wrinkled his brow. I was always amazed at how deep the furrows were for one so young."
> 
> Tune in next week for Julian's bedroom request and a spreading infection.


	35. Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian has some trouble working with his new supervisor. Kel's condition worsens. Rated E.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first scene is rated E. You're free to skip it, but make sure to check out the tl;dr at the end for some character notes.

An apology didn’t seem enough in this case. Oh, Garak had accepted it readily enough on their skimmer ride home, even praising Julian’s rush to judgment (“it seems I’ve finally drilled some caution into your head, my dear”), but that hardly made things right between them.

Maybe it was just the guilt Julian felt about the accusation he had automatically leveled against his lover, when Garak had actually chosen a much more admirable method of dealing with the problem, but Garak seemed a little too polite now as they traded smiles and conversation over dinner. His mask had grown a bit opaquer.

And honestly, Julian couldn’t blame him. He was hardly a man who enjoyed showing vulnerability, yet he had granted Julian that privilege a few times before. But Julian’s actions today had revealed that despite all that, despite this undefined relationship of sex and arguments and genuine affection, Julian didn’t trust him. And that wasn’t a very pleasant realization.

He could have tried to justify it – he certainly had a few good reasons not to trust the former Obsidian Order operative, and it wasn’t as if Garak actually expected him to trust him, not when Garak himself refused to trust anyone. Or he could even have tried to talk through it with Garak, but both required too much energy at the moment. After a long day of dealing with both Rhemeny and Telma, all he really wanted to do was push that away to the back corner of his mind and continue with his evening operative duties.

But by the end of the evening, their intimacy still felt a little strained. Something would have to be done, it seemed, and when it came time for their weekly allotted sonic shower together, Julian was sure to take advantage of it.

Garak’s polite defenses could only last so long when they were naked in the shower together, sonic pulses enveloping their bodies. All Julian had to do was press up against his back, wrapping his arms around his middle, and Garak’s body slowly began to release its tension. And after a few soft kisses to the back of his neck, Garak was leaning back into Julian’s touch, a low sigh escaping his lips.

They stayed that way for a long moment, Garak content to accept the attention Julian lavished on his neck and shoulders. Just gentle brushes of the lips at first, but Julian knew Garak better than to continue that for long. Soon he started really applying himself to the task, scrapes of teeth and nips that left indents, until Garak made another low rumble and turned around to face him.

Julian’s eyes flickered down to Garak’s crotch and yes, this apology seemed to be working nicely. He was already half aroused.

And though the same was true for Julian, Garak seemed more interested in his neck at the moment. “Ah, you left these on your skin,” he observed, far too much satisfaction in his voice, as if his darkened gaze didn’t already betray his feelings on that matter. But Julian wasn’t able to appreciate that gaze for long before Garak leaned in to add some fresh marks to his favorite canvas.

“Yes, so you can feel properly remorseful about what you did to me,” Julian retorted, even as Garak’s mouth was sending little shivers down his spine. And perhaps he had felt lazy after last night’s activities, and had only healed the hickeys that would be visible above his collar.

“My dear,” Garak murmured against Julian’s flesh, head nestled in the crook of his neck. “It’s hardly my fault your skin colors so delightfully at the slightest provocation.” He offered a nibble to prove his theory.

Julian’s head fell to the side on its own volition, welcoming more of that lovely abuse. “Strange, you sound like you enjoy that fact. I thought you hated the weakness of Human skin.”

“Oh, it’s most inconvenient on myself…but on you it’s quite superb.” Garak made use of Julian’s accommodation, running his mouth up the length of Julian’s neck to his bearded jaw – finally a right and proper beard, which Garak seemed to tolerate more. They were standing very close now, erections almost touching, but not quite. Garak still had room to slip a hand down Julian’s body, sliding down his chest. “Even this fur, as ridiculous and ineffective as it is, has a certain charm on you.” His fingers skimmed past the chest that Julian preferred to keep hairless, down his abdomen to the coarse hair beneath his belly button.

Julian’s eyes fell shut against a stir of arousal. “Mhm,” he replied, not at all convinced. Oh, but now Garak had used his other hand to grab Julian’s arm and raise it over his head, giving him easy access to duck down and kiss Julian’s armpit, and it was far too ticklish to be pleasant.

“I’m starting to think you’re just as bad as the rest…that every Cardassian with a Human fetish is an incorrigible reprobate,” he laughed, swatting Garak’s head away.

Garak pulled back. “My dear, that’s hardly fair!” But he didn’t stay away for long, returning to Julian’s neck for a few well-deserved bites. Really, Garak enjoyed Julian’s neck far too much for Julian’s good – it was his favorite place to abuse during foreplay.

Not that Julian was complaining, especially not when Garak dragged his hand up from Julian’s pubic hair to play with a nipple.

“Would you disparage poor Parmak in such a manner?” Garak murmured, still managing to continue this conversation with his hands so busy.

Julian bit back a sigh. “What are you talking about? Parmak doesn’t have a Human fetish.”

“Perhaps not, but he certainly has eyes for you.” Garak’s other hand slid down Julian’s back to cup an arse cheek.

“Ridiculous. I’m nothing more than a friend to him.” And Julian kept his hands firmly at his sides, even when he wanted to return some of the pleasure Garak was inflicting upon him, because such notions shouldn’t be encouraged.

“I’ve always suspected it, but it only became apparent after the bathhouse.” Garak’s mouth was at his ear now, nibbling on the shell. “I think he enjoyed the sights a little too much.”

Julian let out a laugh, both at Garak’s ridiculous ideas and the ticklish whispers against his ear. “He could have been enjoying _your_ sights.” And he decided to return Garak’s groping, hand slipping around to knead his buttocks, but only to make a point.

It had some effect, because Garak was now leaning back from Julian’s neck, gaze locked onto Julian’s eyes as he pressed their foreheads together. “I don’t think so. But if putting my lover on display secured us a skimmer, I suppose it was worth it.” His hand slid down from the nipples he had been teasing, grabbing Julian’s cock without so much as a warning.

And really, this was hardly an offer Julian could resist, but despite his sharp inhale, he refused to let Garak have the last word in this argument. “God, Garak, don’t twist this… _oh_ but you can twist that.”

And Garak’s twist of the wrist, and the wonderful thumb reaching up to play with his foreskin, was almost enough to district him…almost.

“Parmak cares about our safety, that’s why he lent us…ah, I see what you’re doing here.” He straightened up and released his handful of Garak’s left buttock, trying to ignore the sensations pulsing through his cock. “You’re just saying this to wind me up. Well it’s not going to work, no sir.” He crossed his arms for good measure.

But Garak didn’t relent, keeping a firm grip even as he looked Julian up and down, a twinkle in his eyes. “Hasn’t it already?”

It was becoming harder to remain serious when Garak’s clever hand was paying such careful attention to Julian’s erection, all the little tricks he had learned to drive Julian crazy, and there wasn’t much he could say to counter Garak’s argument now. Of course _this_ had nothing to do with their argument, and everything to do with the hands that were teasing him in this very intimate venue, this shower where he had first begun to realize just how attracted he was to this man.

But that was all right, because once Julian wrapped a hand around Garak’s cock to return the favor, neither of them had much interest in conversation anymore, unless their happy little sighs counted as conversation, barely audible over the hum of the sonic vibrations.

They closed the distance between their bodies, mouths meeting in lazy kisses as their erections frotted together. But as lovely as it was to indulge each other’s bodies in the shower, they couldn’t indulge for too long, not with their apartment’s energy so limited. They never had time for more than a quick hand job, and even then they usually took too long, letting the apartment plunge into darkness until the next morning.

But tonight it seemed they were both in the mood for more than a quick hand job, so after a few parting strokes and kisses Julian forced himself to pull away, and they behaved themselves for the rest of the shower.

And with such a powerful motivator, it didn’t take them long to finish up. A few more minutes and they were falling together onto the bed, bodies pressed close and limbs colliding gracelessly in an erotic wrestling match until Garak finally emerged as the victor – but only because Julian had allowed him to win. Besides, his punishment for losing wasn’t too unbearable, not when there was an eager mouth and hands all over him and an erection grinding against his own.

But tonight Garak seemed in the mood for a more abbreviated version of their usual foreplay marathon, because after kissing down Julian’s body, tongue swirling around each nipple only once before continuing its journey downward, stopping just before where Julian really needed that mouth to be, Garak sat back and leaned over to retrieve the scale oil from the nightstand.

“Someone’s impatient tonight,” Julian remarked between breaths, falling back onto the pillow with arms folded behind his head. And as lovely as the oil-slicked finger slipping inside him was, he would have really liked the opportunity to lavish Garak’s body with attention before they moved on to the main event.

“This is only to accommodate your impatient tendencies,” Garak insisted, stretching his body out beside Julian as he continued to prod his hole.

“Well I could set my impatient tendencies aside long enough to stick my tongue up your arse. I know how much you enjoy that.”

Garak’s eyes raked down the body that was sprawled out beside him, the legs that were spread and the hips that were propped comfortably on a pillow, the hole that was welcoming his pistoning finger. “A tempting offer, but your ‘arse’ is a little more tempting at the moment.” He slipped a second finger in beside the first, kissing Julian’s protests quiet. “Now how would you like it tonight, dear? What’s that delightful position where you’re on your knees taking my _prUt_ from behind?”

“Doggy style – ”

“A ridiculous name.”

“ – but actually, I was thinking we could switch things around this time, and you could take my cock.”

It slipped out like a casual suggestion, as if he hadn’t been thinking about it for the last few days, picturing it when his mind fell to fantasy. And really, it was hardly a big deal, but it was hard to be certain of Garak’s reaction…

And Garak indeed had a reaction, eyes snapping back to Julian’s face, and there was a hint of something that looked suspiciously like surprise. Had he ever considered it before? From the way he was eyeing Julian now, it didn’t seem like he had…

But the surprise vanished a moment later, lips curling into a wicked grin as he fingers kept their steady tempo. “Ah, but my dear…” And suddenly his fingers found Julian’s prostate, striking it with such accuracy, like the bastard knew exactly where it was and had been avoiding it until now. “You take my _prUt_ so perfectly, like you were designed for it.”

Julian’s body twitched from the sudden jolt of pleasure, and it took him a few moments to recover. “True,” he allowed, but he wouldn’t give up the notion just yet, not when it had so much potential for new delights. “But you also have the equipment to take my cock – at least most of the equipment. Not sure about the prostate, actually…But that’s something we can find out.”

“This lovely spot?”

“Ahh…” Julian bit back a cry as Garak rubbed his prostate again, delicious heat surging through his lower body. “That’s the one…” And he definitely needed more of that, there was really no question, spreading his legs wider and pulling his knees in closer to his body and lifting his arse higher in the air to chase that brilliant pleasure.

And then there was a hand wrapping around his neglected cock, stroking in time with the thrusts against his prostate, and it was a bit clumsy, but still so lovely, and it was all Julian could do not to voice his approval in the most loud and explicit terms possible.

“You seem to enjoy that,” Garak helpfully observed, using every dirty trick to prolong Julian’s torment. “Are you certain you wouldn’t rather have my _prUt_ in there?”

Oh, that certainly would be a wonderful way to enhance these sensations… But no, even through the haze of his mounting pleasure, he could tell there was more to this than Garak’s desire to drive Julian over the edge. It seemed that Garak might be avoiding the question, that perhaps the suggestion made him uncomfortable… But he really couldn’t blame him, even if he was a bit disappointed. There was a good deal of trust involved in letting someone penetrate such an intimate area. It looked like Julian would have to wait longer to satisfy that particular fantasy.

But in the meantime, this was also acceptable.

“Well…this is rather nice…” he admitted, all coherent and dignified until Garak’s fingers hit the right spot again, fist sliding up and down his slick length. “Ooh, more than nice. Do that again.” His eyes squeezed shut in anticipation.

Only Garak’s fingers decided to pull out instead, and his hand relinquished its grasp, leaving Julian absurdly empty and more than a little disappointed. There were several colorful protests on his lips when he opened his eyes and found where Garak’s attention had gone.

“Or that. That is also acceptable,” he conceded, propping himself up on his elbows to get a better look. It was still such a rare sight to see Garak stroking himself, even just to slick up his cock in preparation, but that only made it all the more erotic.

“I’m so glad it meets your approval,” Garak murmured, doing little to hide the pleasure he was feeling. Yes, by the hunger in his hooded eyes as he held Julian’s gaze, it was clear he was enjoying this. And for all the times he claimed it was rude for a Cardassian to masturbate in front of his partner, he certainly seemed to be getting off on it now, indulging in long, twisting strokes, pulling back the foreskin as he coated the glans with oil.

And it was only fitting that Julian join in such lewdness, grabbing his own cock and picking up where Garak had left off. They continued in their joint debauchery for a few shameless moments, mouths crashing sloppy and eager, feeding each other their tongues and pleasured little sounds until Garak pulled away.

“On your knees, if you please,” he instructed, still holding his cock as he rose to his knees.

Julian complied willingly enough, not really in the mood to put up a fight. “You seem to like this position.”

“I’ll admit it has its charms…” Garak’s hands were on Julian’s hips now, manhandling him into the proper position, Julian bent in front of him on his knees and forearms, Garak lined up behind him, cock sliding against his cleft with that damned teasing he could never resist. “To see your hole winking around my _prUt_ …” He slapped Julian’s arse when it gave a cheeky wiggle. “…Your back muscles coiling in pleasure. This isn’t something that’s feasible with a Cardassian partner.”

“Oh.” That put a few things into perspective for him. “Well, then I suppose you’ll just have to sleep with Humans from now on.” And he really couldn’t keep his arse still any longer, not with Garak’s relentless teasing, the way he dragged his cock up and down without pushing inside.

“That _is_ the idea…”

And suddenly Garak was sliding inside him – _finally_ – stretching and filling his anus with pulsing warmth, and Julian was crying out in a mixture of surprise and delight, hand curling into the sheets as he tried to keep steady. It was still a little rough getting past the first ring of muscles, even with such a rigorous practice regimen, but a few good moments was all Julian needed before he released the tension in his jaw and returned his focus to the wonderful throbbing inside his hole.

And Garak was still the attentive lover, remaining motionless until Julian had adjusted, running his hands in soothing circles on Julian’s lower back before bringing them down to play with Julian’s buttocks, squeezing Julian’s cheeks snugly around his cock. “Yes, my dear, I do believe you were made for this,” he declared, voice was no longer so steady.

Julian could have argued the point, could have insisted that Garak would be just as well suited for this in his Human body, but how convincing would that be with the little whimpers that were escaping his mouth as he bucked back against his lover’s cock, more than ready to get things started?

“And I believe that’s the most cliché line you’ve ever used on me,” he retorted instead, sucking in a breath as Garak began thrusting in earnest, tip of his cock brushing Julian’s prostate. “Ah…Your eloquence is slipping, Elim.”

“Oh?” Garak accepted the challenge with his own dirty tactics, reaching around to stroke Julian’s cock as he kept Julian’s hips steady with his other hand, falling into an easy rhythm “Have you often been told what a lovely tight hole you have?”

It was really unfair how coherent Garak could be during all of this, like they were discussing surveillance logs over dinner, but Julian had had enough practice to be quite the contender now. “I thought you didn’t want to hear about my days at Starfleet Medical,” he shot back, only a little strained from the effort of holding back his sighs.

“Ah…perhaps I’ll suffer through a brief summary. But I would expect the same courtesy in return.”

Julian squeezed his eyes shut, and oh, the stimulation at his prostate was threatening to undo him, a little quiver in his voice, but he wouldn’t fall apart just yet. “Oh, I highly doubt you’d be able to recount _all_ your escapades in one brief summary.”

“Words do tend to fall short…” Garak agreed, pausing for a huff of certainly-not-exertion. “Perhaps a demonstration would be more effective?”

“I thought you said Cardassians couldn’t –”

And suddenly Garak was shifting their position, slipping his hand up Julian’s chest to guide him up on his knees, his back now flush against Garak’s chest. Getting a little creative, was he? It was a little too early to judge, but so far this wasn’t _quite_ as nice as their previous position, not allowing for too deep of thrusts…It was more of a writhing motion, actually.

But Garak, the poor man, seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself. “Tell me, dear,” came a hiss through gritted teeth. “Has anyone ever…ah, what’s the word you like to use?”

And suddenly Julian had thrust back and yes, there was his prostate…

 “ _Fuck…_ ”

“Yes, that’s the one.” A chuckle rumbled deep in Garak’s chest, words whispered against Julian’s ear as he surged his hips forward, meeting Julian’s next thrust head-on. “Has anyone ever fucked you like this, my darling?”

Ah, he quite liked the sound of that word on Garak’s tongue, arching back against Garak’s body. “Oh…not that I can remember at this moment.”

That was enough to please Garak, offering only a satisfied grunt to end the conversation. Which was fine by Julian, because now Garak was focusing his energy on other endeavors – and what exhilarating endeavors they were, one hand indulging Julian’s cock with eager strokes, the other braced across Julian’s sweat-slick chest, thrusting and thrusting as Julian bucked his hips back, gaining momentum.

And whatever this position lacked in deep penetration was made up for in intimacy, Julian leaning back into his lover’s embrace, bodies slotted snugly together. It was strange how their bodies molded together in nearly every position they tried, even when they were so different in shape, Garak all round, soft edges against Julian’s lanky frame.

Oh, and there was another benefit to this position, he was pleased to find as he craned his neck back. Garak met his mouth with hungry kisses, clumsy but passionate as their bodies continued to move in opposing motions, meeting in the middle with sharp bursts of pleasure. Julian reached his hands back to grasp his lover, leaving his chest unprotected against the fingers that were toying with his nipples, but that only added to everything else as he placed a hand on Garak’s arse to encourage his thrusts, not that he really needed it.

And it seemed their rigorous practice was indeed paying off, because they both had built up quite the stamina. What would have once been the end of this round was now only the luxurious middle, neither of them willing to release themselves into that singular, blinding moment of bliss just yet, wanting to prolong these sensations for as long as they could.

So that became their new challenge, Garak keeping a moderate pace as he stroked Julian’s cock, not enough to send him over the edge when his prostate was only being brushed upon every thrust. It was a calm, leisurely lovemaking, pleasure stretched over a long, heady period of intimate rocking.

But even with such a pace, the heat was still mounting, and then Garak’s hand was moving faster and Julian’s pleasure suddenly surged, choking on a gasp that sent Garak’s hips into a flurry, shallow pistoning movements that Julian eagerly rocked back to meet.

The mattress was squeaking at every snap of Garak’s hips, the headboard smacking against the wall, and there was the slap of slick flesh as they continued to rock faster. And god, that was already too many sounds, so Julian had no choice but to swallow his cries, releasing only soft little whimpers that Garak answered with low grunts and hisses, and of course Garak was still better at controlling the sounds he made, always so husky and sexy, nothing like these embarrassing little squeaks that came out every time Julian’s prostate was nudged.

But then Garak’s grunts were turning into whimpers against Julian’s mouth, and that was his only warning before he suddenly doubled his speed and gripped Julian’s body with a vengeance, and Julian could no longer lean back and trade kisses, breaking away with a gasp and trying to hold steady against the burst of erratic thrusts until Garak was finally spurting inside of him.

But Garak refused to stop his attentions on Julian’s cock, only stroking faster as Julian let out a plaintive cry – because damnit, he had wanted to hold off his climax for just a little longer, but he had no say in the matter as his orgasm rolled through him in shuddering waves, moaning in helpless bliss as he spilled onto Garak’s hand.

The world returned to them a little sooner than usual, and they didn’t spend too long in their sweaty, breathless post-coital embrace before Garak carefully slid out and released Julian’s body.

“Leaving already?” Julian turned around to show his disappointment, completely justified in what was certainly not a pout.

“I can’t very well leave your fluids on my hand to dry,” Garak tutted, raising his soiled hand with a look of disgust.

Julian rolled his eyes, because really, he was the one with Garak’s fluids leaking from his arse, dripping down his thigh, but even that couldn’t quite dampen his smile. “I’ll take care of that,” he promised, taking the offended hand by the wrist. “Just stay a minute longer. Let me catch my breath.”

Garak could hardly say no against Julian’s most pleading face, body falling slack as Julian guided him down next to him on the bed, heads nestled on the pillows. But Garak was still using his hand cautiously, careful not to touch the blankets, so Julian offered his own solution.

Hmm, he didn’t taste too bad, he decided as he started licking Garak’s hand clean. A little more bitter than usual, but that was probably the _gelat._  

Garak let out a hum, shifting slightly as Julian took his thumb between his lips. “Ah, I should have known you were the sort of man who enjoys his own ejaculate.”

Julian lifted his head and glared playfully. “This coming from the man who will barely masturbate in front of me.”

“We certainly have our differences, my dear.”

He released the last finger with a _pop_ , resting his head on the pillow beside Garak. “I’m afraid so,” he agreed, giving Garak’s chin an affectionate nip. “What ever shall we do about them?”

Garak pressed a kiss to Julian’s wet mouth. “I have a few ideas…”

 

* * *

 

“…And _gelat_ – now there’s another brilliant Cardassian invention,” Garak enthused, loading a vial into his hypospray.

He had been babbling on about his opinions of Cardassian culture – Nurse Robinson’s opinions, of course, just a simple Human with only a cursory knowledge – for over fifteen minutes now without pause, covering everything from cuisine to popular holo-dramas to a curious observer’s questions about the Cardassian political system (just innocuous inquiries about the division (or struggle) of powers), all while Rhemeny worked stiffly in the corner and Julian tried to hold back his laughter.

Julian knew exactly why Garak was being particularly verbose this morning as the three of them prepared medication and reviewed test results in Laboratory D, and any concentration Julian may have lost in the process was more than made up for by Rhemeny’s growing irritation, all unimpressed glares and curt answers.

“It’s far more effective than the coffee my people drink – one cup and I feel invigorated!” Garak went on, turning back to the man whose console he had decided to work beside. “Is _gelat_ a popular drink among your colleagues at Central Command, Dr. Rhemeny? I imagine you must be quite overworked these days…”

Julian glanced up from his console to see hints of the frown that was hiding behind Rhemeny’s sanitary mask. He tried not to smile behind his own mask.

“I’d be happy to answer that question after our shift,” the older doctor answered brusquely. “But right now our job is to discuss this plague, not our personal lives. Now if you’ll excuse me, there are matters I need to discuss with Dr. Elfaldi.”

“Of course.” Garak offered a polite nod, but even a layer of contrition couldn’t hide that glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “Forgive the imposition on your time, Doctor.” He then crossed the room to Julian, trading secret weary looks as Julian handed him a tray of hyposprays. Garak added his hypo to the tray and carried it out of the lab.  

Rhemeny appeared by Julian’s side, promptly ending the fifteen-minute reprieve.

“What was in the hypos you just handed him?”

Julian offered only a glance up from his console screen, even as the doctor peered closer at his work. “The next phase of my clinical trial.”

“I hope you have modified your thyprokozin like we discussed.”

Yes, what a discussion that had been, if such a one-sided conversation even merited that label… Julian raised his gaze to fix on Rhemeny. “With all due respect, Doctor, I’ve seen no reason to make any modifications. Thyprokozin seems to be slowing the bacteria’s reproduction in at least two of my patients, and there have been no significant side effects in any of them.”

“Perhaps, but it’s doubtful that it will maintain its efficacy against the bacteria’s high mutation rate, especially considering the relatively low potency your antibiotic,” Rhemeny pointed out, holding Julian’s gaze with disapproving eyes.

But before Julian could push back on that point – several of his simulations had shown the drug effectively blocking bacterial growth without mutation being an issue – Rhemeny continued on.

“Your drug may have been effective against a previous form of the bacteria, but with such a high mutation rate, it has clearly mutated beyond such treatment. Your thyprokozin, as it stands now, does not have the proteins necessary to penetrate the bacteria’s polysaccharide capsule. Perhaps you had not realized the unique composition of this capsule. I have studied the _rudeli petis_ bacteria extensively, collecting data from nearly one hundred different autopsies I performed on troops from the outer colonies, and the acidic content of this bacterial capsule is too high for your antibiotic to have a significant effect.”  

When Rhemeny finally paused for a breath, Julian was quick to make use of it. “Ah, and your autopsies are always so reliable,” he retorted dryly.

It felt a little satisfying to finally get some of that out, even in a sarcastic remark, but one look from Rhemeny made him instantly regret that. He had better not make any more allusions if he didn’t want to draw suspicion...

“As I showed you in my research yesterday,” he continued, brushing past it. “I have studied the chemical composition of the capsule in both postmortem and living microbiology cultures, and I have already altered the structure of thyprokozin to compensate for the capsule’s high acidity. A few more doses and all bacterial growth should be stopped.”

He pulled up the latest molecular diagram of his antibiotic, but Rhemeny only dignified it with a glance before grunting in disapproval, shaking his head.

“Well, I hope your calculations have been very precise, because the longer you spend experimenting with questionable antibiotics, the greater the risk this plague poses to Glinn Aghet’s life.”

Julian frowned behind his mask. “I am well aware of the risks and the urgency,” he returned, but no, even with all the tongue-biting he had been doing lately, he needed to push back on this. “And we have other patients suffering besides Glinn Aghet.”

“Ah, yes, the Lokar girl.”

“And Mizda, Ekoh, Ejat, Akad, and Serna.”

Rhemeny’s eyes flicked back to Julian, blinking as if he had never heard such a strange and appalling notion. “Yes, but we obviously must have our priorities, Doctor,” he insisted. And there was that voice again, talking down to him as if he were a child. “The Torrites will serve well for clinical trials, but the health of Glinn Aghet and Miss Lokar must come first.”

Now Julian was blinking as if _that_ was the most outrageous thing he had ever heard, and it honestly wasn’t far…And such words from a _doctor?_ Oh, he really should have expected it, given Cardassia’s principles and the general attitude of the Central Command, but he just couldn’t stay silent now, professionalism be damned. This man was hardly worthy of such professionalism anyway.

“I realize we have our cultural differences, but I have always ascribed to the belief that on the biobed, every patient is equal.” He took a step back from the console, eyes locked onto his target. “And I will continue to practice medicine in that manner, no matter who my patients are, no matter their species or economic status or anything else that might classify them as ‘lesser’ in your eyes.” He had taken a step closer to Rhemeny, he realized, anger barely restrained behind his measured voice. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have the second phase of my clinical trial to conduct – which everyone, including Glinn Aghet, has agreed to participate in.”

He stormed out of the lab before Rhemeny had the chance to respond, before he could let anything slip. And yes, perhaps storming out was rather dramatic, and certainly not the most inconspicuous of behaviors, but he was growing damn tired of that man’s attitude, tired of having to censor himself. He could only handle so much interference from that doctor – if he even deserved to be called that after what he had just said. And to insinuate that there was great risk in his clinical trials, when Rhemeny knew full well he had run thorough toxicology tests on his antibiotic before even considering testing it on his patients, was absurd. And that wasn’t even mentioning Rhemeny’s elitist and unethical philosophy about his patients…

The Science Ministry had made a mistake in sending Rhemeny here, a mistake that might end up costing everyone dearly if he continued to interfere with Julian’s research.

It wasn’t easy to calm down after such an offense, but after he had headed across the hall and stuffed his body into a biocontainment suit, he had recomposed himself into the agreeable Human doctor his patients had come to expect. And after he had begun a conversation with Kel, the remaining tension drained from his body.

She was still quite talkative, even when the plague had begun to take its toll on her lungs. It was a slow decline so far, nowhere near the final stages of the disease, but Julian still didn’t like to hear that wet cough that seemed slightly worse every day. His antibiotic, unfortunately, had not yet exhibited any efficacy against her bacteria, but he wasn’t too concerned. By this time tomorrow, she would hopefully show significant improvements from the increased dose of thyprokozin that Garak had just administered. But in the meantime, all Julian could do was continue to administer her symptom suppressors.

Garak, at least, had been unusually helpful since Rhemeny arrived, taking extra shifts in the isolation ward to assist Julian. It was good to see he was no longer staying away from the isolation ward, even if he did seem to be avoiding Kel’s section when he could help it. It was just nice to have Garak around to pull into the backroom whenever he needed – but only to vent, mind you. He was hardly in the mood for anything else during his shifts these days.

Julian had only just begun administering Kel’s medication when Ejat poked his head around the curtain that separated their sections. The two had become fast friends in their mutual sickness, despite their age and class differences, and it warmed Julian’s heart to see them laugh. So he granted Ejat’s request to come chat, but only after Ejat had assured him he had taken his medicine, which Garak, peeking around the curtain, wholeheartedly confirmed.

Ejat, at least, hadn’t shown any significant deterioration since being admitted to the hospital. He had remained remarkably energetic in the face of his disease, and liked to share that with Kel, even as the girl coughed through her laughs. But her eyes were still bright as they conversed, and even Garak, who lingered in the back of Kel’s section, seemed unusually relaxed.

But the cheerful mood wasn’t allowed to last for long before Rhemeny entered the isolation ward, as he usually took it upon himself to “help” with the care of the only two patients whose status was high enough to earn his coveted concern. And it was fine by Julian if Rhemeny wanted to spend an inordinate amount of time fussing over Glinn Aghet. Aghet wasn’t the most sociable fellow anyway, and it kept Rhemeny out of Julian’s hair for a little while.

But luck didn’t seem to be on Julian’s side today, because as Rhemeny was walking past Kel’s section to the back, he looked over with a frown and stopped.

“Is there something wrong with this boy’s biobed, Dr. Elafadal?” Rhemeny asked, sparing Ejat only a scathing glance before turning his disapproval on Julian, a disapproval that lost none of its impact through his dark visor. The laughter and chatter fell silent.

But Julian could match that frown, even if he didn’t have quite as many wrinkles to sour his face. “No, I don’t believe so.”

“Then I’m sure you’re aware that Cardassian quarantine protocol forbids patients from prolonged interactions with each other.” Of course Rhemeny was far too important to actually tell Ejat this, preferring to use his stuffy voice on the idiot Human doctor.

Julian narrowed his eyes, opening his mouth to argue, but then he caught Garak’s eye from the corner. His shoulders drooped, but he would comply, if only so a violation of protocol wouldn’t be reported to the Science Ministry. He turned back to Ejat with a strained smile. “All right, Ejat, please return to your section now. I’ll be there in five metrics to run a few tests.”

Ejat offered only a frown in his resistance, returning to his section with a little less energy.

But Rhemeny wouldn’t leave quite yet, taking a step closer to Kel’s bed. “I apologize for the boy’s intrusion, Miss Lokar.”

“Oh, it was no intrusion.” Kel, a little pale and crusty around the eyes, looked more confused than anything. “Ejat’s a sweet boy. He just misses his siblings.”

Rhemeny didn’t seem to think that warranted a response, instead pulling Julian aside where he could speak at him with the semblance of privacy. “You allow a boy from Torr to associate with Miss Lokar?”

“Miss Lokar is allowed to associate with whomever she pleases, Doctor,” Julian answered tersely. And that was the end of that conversation, he decided as he walked over to the console.

Rhemeny chose not to pursue him this time, but he did cast the most disapproving glare he could muster before turning his attention on someone more accustomed to handling such people.

“Come, Nurse Rhobsan, it’s time for Glinn Aghet’s hypo.”

Garak was all smiles as he followed Rhemeny to the back of the ward, to the largest curtained section where the nurses used to prepare medication. Naturally Rhemeny had decided this was the only suitable section for a glorious hero like Glinn Aghet (whose condition certainly didn’t warrant it, still in the first stage of the plague), and had commandeered it for such his first day on the job.

But at least Rhemeny was gone now, and he was more than welcome to dote on the glinn for a few hours, even if he had taken Julian’s favorite nurse with him. Really, it was about time Garak had to suffer through what Julian had had to endure for the last four days – besides, Garak seemed to enjoy getting under the older doctor’s skin.

A sigh escaped Julian’s lips before he could stop himself, and when he turned back to Kel, he was met with a sympathetic look.

“I take it you heard that,” Julian said, smiling apologetically. “He’s really not as discreet as he thinks he is.”

Kel let out a soft laugh. “He’s certainly an interesting doctor… But I think I prefer your bedside manner.”

Julian returned Kel’s smile a little wearily before his lips straightened into a thin line. Perhaps it wasn’t best to discuss personal matters with a patient, but Julian was hardly in his best mood right now.

“I suppose a good beside manner isn’t all that important to the Central Command,” he remarked, and even though he felt he could trust Kel, he kept his voice down. “Perhaps they prefer their doctors arrogant and elitist.”

He was now by her side with her daily dose of anti-inflammatory medicine, pressing the hypo to her neck. The words continued to flow freely.

“You know, perhaps I have been too fortunate working with such good people here, like Dr. Parmak, that I forgot how to handle the bad ones,” he remarked. Yes, he had known Parmak was an outlier from the start, and really should have been prepared to work with more than one Dr. Rhemeny.

But Kel wasn’t ready with more sympathetic words. She looked vaguely confused. “What do you mean?”

And he knew right away he had said too much, because he couldn’t very well tell her why Rhemeny was such a terrible person, all the crimes he had committed. “He’s just a very difficult person to work with,” was all he could say, even if it paled in comparison to the truth.

Kel’s expression turned contemplative. “Maybe he’s not very strong in that area, but I like to look at people as not being simply good or bad. It’s a little too limiting.”

“I don’t know,” Julian pushed back with a half-smile. “I’ve known some people who have leaned strongly in one direction or the other.” And one who continued to defy any categorization.

Kel paused to clear her throat, a wet and guttural sound, before replying. “There are certainly people who choose to act one way or another, but I believe everyone has the capacity for both great and terrible deeds,” she explained. “Even someone like Dr. Rhemeny, as rude as he might be –” she lowered her voice there – “is not a waste of scales. He still has a role to play in this universe, as we all do.”

Julian took a moment to consider her words as he pressed the second hypo to her neck, but he was still trying to figure out when a simple complaint about Rhemeny had turned so philosophical. None of his previous conversations with Kel had been this deep. This was more like the discussions he and Garak would occasionally fall into.

“I suppose so,” he said at length, setting aside the empty hypos. “But I think the universe would be a lot better without the harm that people like him commit.” Perhaps Rhemeny did have some role to play, but the harm he had done – betraying his oath as a doctor and assisting a murder and who knew what else – had outweighed that. If Rhemeny had been his patient, he would of course treat him with the same level of compassion as any other patient, but it was harder to be generous in this context.

“I’d like to agree with you there –” Her words broke into a cough, but she didn’t let that stop her, continuing her thought once it had subsided. “And I understand the appeal of a binary viewpoint on this issue, but I feel that the universe is far more complex than that. There must be justice, of course, but if we discount everyone who has ever done wrong, we’ll be left with no one to listen to but our own egos.”

Well, it was clear Kel had been reading too many enigma tales, because that sounded like those themes of universal guilt that Cardassians were so enamored with. And really, it was a belief that made sense from a Cardassian standpoint, because with their questionable moral structure, they probably had to tell themselves that in order to live with their society’s crimes. But this concept of universal goodness seemed a little less Cardassian.

On the other hand, he doubted any Cardassian would consider an action wrong if it was in service to the State…but surprisingly, Kel had yet to mention the State.

Yes, this girl was quite the budding philosopher…but it was compelling, the way she spoke with the appearance of wisdom beyond her years, an almost spiritual quality.

But he wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that. He couldn’t, for obvious reasons, make the argument that Rhemeny should be discredited and face justice for the crimes he had most likely committed… But at the same time, he knew he was far more generous with another Cardassian whose past was filled with dark and probably similar crimes…

Kel was the one to break the silence, seeming to notice to troubled look behind his visor. “Ah, I’m sorry to bore you with such talk,” she apologized. “I’ve had too much time to think and read lately.”

“Oh, there’s no need to apologize,” Julian assured her, slipping a smile back onto his face. “But you should really rest your throat now.”

Indeed, Kel’s voice was beginning to sound weaker than at the start of this conversation. But before Julian take another tricorder scan, they heard Rhemeny’s voice rising from the back of the ward.

“Have you always been preparing hypos in such a way, Nurse? This method is far more efficient.”

Kel looked back at Julian with a grin. “Still, Dr. Rhemeny is a bit of a jerk.”

 

* * *

 

He tried, he really did. But despite Julian’s renewed efforts at professionalism and undeserved politeness, Rhemeny continued to disrespect him and the majority of his patients, and by the end of the week, he wasn’t certain how much longer he would last.

He had already crafted several impassioned rants that he, of course, could never tell Rhemeny – all about what a vile criminal he was, wholly unworthy of his practice and a blight on his profession – and the longer he was forced to work with this man, the greater his frustration would build.

And to make matters worse, Rhemeny’s earlier predications may have proved accurate. The latest test results in Julian’s clinical trial had been less than encouraging, revealing that thyprokozin was no longer slowing bacterial growth in any of his patients, not even Mizda and Ekoh. But that didn’t necessarily mean Rhemeny was right. Julian had just administered the final phase of his clinical trial that morning – the maximum dose within safe limits – so he would need to wait twenty-six hours before running the tests that would determine if this antibiotic was another failure.

But now as Julian returned to his office with Garak to pack up for the day, he was actually looking forward to a few hours of mindlessly sifting through surveillance logs. And there was also the possibility that Regnok had responded to the invitation Garak had made sure he was sent – a retirement party for a prominent legate in Lakat (though why a legate was retiring during the middle of a war was beyond Julian) – and then they could start preparing for their war plans heist.

He was nearly out the door, slinging his medkit over his shoulder when his wrist comm beeped.

 _“Dr. El Fadil,”_ came the voice of Nurse Rhan. _“You’re needed in the isolation ward.”_

Oh, of course Rhemeny wouldn’t let him leave without getting in one final complaint that just couldn’t wait until morning. Sighing, he set down his things and tapped his wrist comm.

“On my way.” He looked up at Garak. “You can wait here. I’ll try to keep this brief.”

But when he walked through the isolation ward doors in his biocontainment suit, he wasn’t met with the displeased scowl of Dr. Rhemeny. Rhemeny, by all appearances, had already gone home, and only Nurse Rhan a few other nurses remained.

Nurse Rhan went over to him as soon she saw him, ready to clear up his confusion. “I’m afraid Miss Lokar’s condition has deteriorated, Doctor,” she informed, handing him a padd. “The bacteria has continued to spread throughout her lungs, and the symptom alleviators have stopped having much effect. I’ve put her on a nasal cannula and administered two cc’s of ptarvozine, but her fever remains alarmingly high.”

Julian took one glance at the padd before starting toward Kel’s section, setting a brisk pace for Nurse Rhan to follow. “Has the thyprokozin had any effect on the infection?”

“No, bacterial growth has remained steady,” Rhan answered, heels clicking loudly as she kept by his side. “Is it possible to raise the dose?”

Julian frowned. “I’ve already given her the maximum dose within safe limits. There’s already a risk of hepatotoxicity. Any more and she might suffer severe liver damage.”

“I believe the plague has reached stage three.” Rhan looked rather troubled now – she was young and still wore every emotion on her face. “Kel’s leukocyte count is steadily dropping, and her lungs have begun to fill with fluid. If left untreated, I’m not sure how much longer she’ll be able to fight this.”

Rhan’s voice dropped to a whisper as they arrived at Kel’s section, slipping through the curtains that had been drawn for Kel’s privacy. Indeed, Kel looked in far worse condition than when he had seen her this morning, her skin pale and clammy as she struggled through a coughing fit, hacking into a blood-stained tissue that Nurse Ikara assisted her with. She barely noticed their presence until Julian stepped closer.

He ran a quick tricorder scan, confirming what Nurse Rhan had just told him. Kel was watching him with dull eyes, head falling back onto the pillow as if it was difficult to hold it up. Her body was trembling.

“Hello, Kel,” Julian said softly, offering a smile. “How are you feeling?”

Kel’s clouded eyes tried to focus on him, but there was something distant in her gaze. “I know you,” she said, voice so weak that Julian barely heard.

“Yes, Kel, it’s Dr. El Fadil.”

“No, that’s not – ” A shudder of coughs wracked her body, propelling her up to cough into her hands. Ikara was quickly back at her side, waiting until she was finished to wipe away the bloody phlegm.

Kel’s head hit the pillow and suddenly she was looking at Julian again, squinting her eyes like she could barely see him. “You’re the man who follows Mother and me at the park…always in the bushes, hiding in the shadows like a _regnar_. We could see you, but you always thought you were hidden. Mother always laughed.” A faint smile tugged at her lips.

Julian leaned closer and peered into her face, but her eyes were still distant and hazy. She was hallucinating. “Kel,” he called, a little louder.

But Kel only looked more confused, furrows creasing her sweat-covered brow. “No…no, the eyes aren’t the same…” Another fit of coughs erupted.

Julian straightened and turned back to Nurse Rhan with urgency, knowing what he needed to do. There wasn’t anything he could do for her here, and time was clearly running out. “Give her two more cc’s of ptarvozine, and perform a pleurodesis to drain the fluid from her lungs. Then keep her sedated and stable.” He turned to the other nurse. “Nurse Ikara, please inform Palandine Lokar about her daughter’s condition. She may want to be with her.” Then, back to Rhan, “Keep me advised if her condition changes.”

“Where will you be?” Nurse Rhan asked.

“Across the hall in Laboratory D. I’m going to find this cure.”

He was out of the isolation ward before she could reply her affirmative, stripping out of his biocontainment suit and throwing it back in the bin. A brisk walk across the hall and he was back in the lab, leaning over a console. It was only after he pulled up Kel’s latest bioscan that he remembered the man still waiting in his office.

His fingers were hovering over his wrist comm when he hesitated. But no, as concerned as Garak was certain to be, there was no reason to keep this from him.

He tapped the comm.

“Sorry, Andy, it looks like I won’t be going home anytime soon. Kel’s condition has worsened and I’m going to have to modify the thyprokozin.”

A beat, then Garak responded. “I see. I’ll be right up.”

“That’s all right, Andy,” Julian interjected before Garak could cut the comm. “It’d be better if you went home.” Even with Kel’s condition, they couldn’t both miss a night of their spy work, not with the risks still posed by the Bureau. Garak would be more use at the apartment right now – there wasn’t much he could offer Julian here. And it would only worry him more to see Kel in such a state.

“Very well.” Garak’s voice was steady. “Good night, Sid.”

The comm cut before he could reply. It was hard to tell how Garak took the news with the mastery he had over his emotions, but Julian hardly had time to worry about that now. He turned back to the console and brought up the molecular diagram of his antibiotic on the next screen, and then beside it the bacterial sputum culture that Rhan collected fifteen minutes ago.

Yes, he could clearly see that Nurse Rhan was right about thyprokozin having no effect on the bacteria – and Rhemeny was right as well. Julian’s antibiotic was unable to penetrate the bacterial capsule. Yes, it was all right before him on the screens, but it was still inexplicable. After all the tests and simulations he had run, he had been absolutely certain this would be the cure.

But now it was clear that wasn’t the case. Even after increasing the dosage to the maximum potency that safety allowed, it was still entirely ineffective. The bacteria had mutated to become resistant.

His other patients’ results confirmed it. There had been no decrease in bacterial growth in any of them, and he doubted that a few more hours would change anything. The only difference was that with them, there was still time to return to his research and conduct further tests. Kel didn’t have that luxury. If they couldn’t get her fever down, she was in danger of neurological damage.

And if he didn’t find a cure soon, she only had a few days at best.

Which also meant there wasn’t time to synthesize an artificial implant to replace her bacteria-ridden lungs, not with the energy limits that were placed on the hospital. There was also no time to return to the research and discovery phase with a new microorganism. He would have to find a way to modify his thyprokozin to counteract the bacteria’s resistance and break through its polysaccharide capsule, inhibiting its metabolism.  

Now that he knew exactly what needed to be done, he went to work with a new energy, clearheaded and hyper-focused. But even though he had answered the what question, there wasn’t a clear-cut answer as to the how. That would require more exploration, running the most likely possibilities through simulations until he narrowed it down to the one that would work.

Time seemed to stand still and loom over him simultaneously, a constant reminder of the situation’s urgency. But there wasn’t much of this process he could speed up. There were several main methods of bolstering an antibiotic’s efficacy, and several thousand subcategories within those groups. The computer could only test and eliminate so many at a time.

But even with time at a premium, he needed to be absolutely certain of his method’s success before he tried it. He couldn’t afford to get it wrong again; failure wasn’t an option. He couldn’t lose another patient, and he couldn’t lose Kel Lokar.

It seemed like it had been seconds and hours when Julian finally glanced at the chronometer – hours, definitely hours. Five of them to be exact. Five hours and he was still no closer to finding the cure.

His groan seemed to echo through the empty lab as he scrubbed at his face. Nurse Rhan had yet to call him, so at least Kel’s condition was stable for now. But that could quickly change.

Suddenly his legs gave out and he was falling into a nearby chair, swiveling around in circles as if that would give him a fresh perspective. Head tipped back, he stared at the ceiling, hoping against hope that the answer the computer had failed to give him was written somewhere up there.

An antimicrobial peptide would be the most practical addition to his antibiotic, that much he knew. But that group consisted of thousands of different peptides, and even with the computer’s help narrowing down the field, there were still many possible peptides that needed to be tested for linking compatibility with his antibiotic and efficacy against the bacterial capsule. He just didn’t have enough factors to narrow it down precisely, and could do little more than shoot in the dark until the computer stumbled upon a successful result. But in the meantime, the constant droning of _“simulation failed”_ was starting to get on his nerves.

So he continued to spin and spin and spin, churning all the data around in his mind. But so far all that he learned was that thirty-seven rotations were enough to make him dizzy. Coming to a halt, he sat back up and closed his eyes until his head had cleared. When he opened them back up, his eyes landed on Rhemeny’s workstation.

Rhemeny had still never bothered to explain why he was studying _kaghey_ mold and the kagethine antibiotic it produced, but perhaps there was some method to his madness, something Julian had overlooked. It wouldn’t hurt to explore the possibility of it having some merit, at least while a chorus of _“simulation failed”_ continued to echo through the lab. If anything, it might at least provide a spark of inspiration.

Rhemeny’s station was meticulously organized, he found, and soon he was analyzing the molecular structure of the kagethine antibiotic. So far nothing stood out. Obviously he couldn’t use kagethine in its current form because of its toxicity, but an isolated molecule, like an antimicrobial peptide, would not be toxic.

It was a longshot of course, but it was still worth exploring. And yes, as he continued to analyze its structure, there was one type of antimicrobial peptides – kacynin – that showed promise. It was electron-deficient, providing a way to chemically link it to an electron-rich ring of carbon atoms in his antibiotic. All that remained to be seen was if it would bolster thyprokozin’s efficacy enough to break through that polysaccharide capsule.

“Computer, run a simulation of thyprokozin’s effects on the bacterial cells of _rudeli petis_ if kacynin is added, testing for penetration of the polysaccharide capsule.”

A few minutes passed before the computer announced its results.

_“Simulation successful.”_

 

* * *

 

He entered the isolation ward with a hypospray in hand, headed straight for Kel’s section to speak with Nurse Rhan. Only it wasn’t Nurse Rhan he found standing beside Kel’s biobed, running a tricorder over her motionless form.

“You’re still here.”

Garak closed the tricorder and met his gaze. “Nurse Rhan has been so overworked lately. I thought she could use the night off,” he answered, as smooth and composed as ever.

But even through the dim visor of his biocontainment suit, Julian could tell that neither of them believed that. But that was hardly important right now.

“How is she?” he asked, even as he moved to the console to examine her vitals.

Garak followed him. “Sedated. Her pleurodesis was successful, but her fever has not yet abated.” His gaze fell to the hypo in Julian’s hand. “Have you…?”

“I think so.” Julian looked back up at him, doing little to hide the weariness in his eyes. “But first I need to contact Palandine. I can’t test this modified antibiotic without prior consent, and Kel is in no condition to give her own.” He had only been able to run the basic toxicity tests with time so limited, but there were still more risks involved at such an early stage in development.

Garak raised a hand to stop him. “That’s already been taken care of. Mrs. Lokar has authorized whatever treatment you deem necessary to improve Kel’s condition,” he informed, his voice betraying nothing. “She’s currently out of the city, but will return tomorrow morning.”

Julian nodded. “All right. Then let’s give this a go.”

He leaned over his sleeping patient and pressed the hypo to her neck, releasing his antibiotic into Kel’s bloodstream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tl;dr: For anyone who skipped the smut scene, the only important take-away is that Garak seems to be avoiding vulnerability. 
> 
> If any of you have experience in a medical field then you'll probably find a lot of flaws in this chapter. My knowledge of antibiotic development and lung bacterial infections is limited to Google searches and a quick perusal through a textbook, so I wouldn't be surprised if there are many glaring errors. (Also shout out to Garashir's resident EMT for the resources!)
> 
> Tune in next week for the results of Julian's antibiotic.


	36. Breakthrough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian cures the Rudellian plague.

“I’d like to keep her here under observation for another twenty-six hours, but after that she’ll be free to go home,” Julian announced, flipping his tricorder closed. “All bacterial growth has stopped, and I’m confident that her immune system will continue fighting off what’s left.”

Palandine Lokar was at a loss for words. Her face was caught somewhere between tearful relief and beaming joy, eyes misty and lips curled upward, but even in the face of such good news, she was trying to return to that practiced Cardassian composure and hold back the swell of tears.

She had rushed into the isolation ward around third bell that morning, having just arrived in the city and expecting the worst, and Julian had been extremely relieved to surprise her with the opposite. Indeed, it came as somewhat as a surprise to himself after all his failed antibiotics.

But he had finally done it. He had cured the Rudellian plague.

It had started with a break in Kel’s fever. He had continued to watch her closely, and after another hour, a microcellular scan revealed that bacterial growth in her lungs had stopped. Her immune system, bolstered by the synthesized leukocytes he had given her, was starting to destroy the _rudeli petis_ bacteria. She was no longer in critical condition, but on her way to recovery.

Now it had been six hours since he had administered the drug and Kel was already looking remarkably better – her cough was less frequent and no longer bloody, her temperature was within a safe range, and she was no longer suffering hallucinations or tremors. But despite how exhausted and drowsy she was from the medication, she looked more than happy to see her mother.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Palandine said at length, a slight waver in her voice. “I can’t begin to express how relieved and grateful I am. Thank you.”

He would have liked to accept her gratitude with confident nonchalance, to say it was a simple matter of linking the right antimicrobial peptide to his antibiotic, but it really hadn’t been that simple. It would have been far simpler if he and Rhemeny (who hadn’t yet started his shift this morning) had worked more cooperatively, and then Kel’s condition would have never become so severe. But he said none of that, offering a smile instead.

“No need to thank me. I’m just glad she’s doing better.”

Palandine returned his smile with one her own, the brightest smile he had seen from that woman, before moving to Kel’s side. Mother and daughter fell into quiet conversation, Kel’s voice weak but coherent, but Julian observed them for only a moment, far more interested in what Garak was doing.

Honestly, he was a little surprised that Garak was still here, that he hadn’t disappeared once Palandine’s arrival was announced over the comm. That he was standing at the console to monitor Kel’s leukocyte count, silent but calm.

But as interesting as that was, his patient’s conversation suddenly caught his attention.

“I suppose I should contact the administrators and confirm my attendance at the Institute this coming term.”

“Yes,” Palandine agreed, fussing with Kel’s sheets. “I’m sure they’ll be pleased to hear that.”

But Kel didn’t sound very pleased, at least not as pleased as when she had told Julian about her academic plans a few weeks ago. She had been looking forward to continuing her studies, but now that didn’t seem to be the case. He hardly knew anything about the Institute for State Policy, except that it was a prestigious academy that trained Cardassia’s next leaders – so essentially, an indoctrination camp.

But that was all Kel and Palandine spoke on that matter, and after a few more words with her mother, Kel looked over at Julian. “I think I might actually miss this room, Doctor,” she chuckled, gazing around the section she had spent three weeks in. “Well, at least all the time I had for reading here.”

Julian smiled, taking a step closer. “I don’t imagine there will be much time for enigma tales once you’re back at the Institute,” he sympathized.

“No, there definitely won’t be.” A pensive look passed over her face, but soon her eyes brightened. “Oh, that reminds me…” She leaned over and grabbed a padd off of the stand by her bed. “I’ve been meaning to return _Shadows of the Frieze_ to you _,_ Nurse Robinson. I finished it last week.”

Garak had no choice but approach their little circle now, and he did so with unconcerned ease, choosing to stand on the other side of Kel’s bed. He even lingered nearby after accepting the padd, offering a smile and nod.

Kel turned back to Palandine with a grin. “I think I’ve found someone who enjoys enigma tales as much as you do, Mother.”

Palandine looked up and met Garak’s gaze, and there was nothing but calm composure on Garak’s face.

And Julian couldn’t help but observe, abandoning all pretense of looking over a padd, watching for any sign of discomfort in Garak’s eyes, or recognition in Palandine’s, but neither face revealed anything beyond the surface of politeness. It was quite a contrast to their last interaction.

Garak was quick to fill the silence. “Something I picked up from my Cardassian stepmother,” he dismissed with a wave of his hand. He was making no attempts to disguise his voice, Julian realized.

“Well I’m pleased to hear our literature has such a far reach in the quadrant,” Palandine remarked with an easy laugh. “ _Shadows of the Frieze_ is one of my favorites.”

Garak’s face remained unchanged, but before he was required to give a response, Kel returned to the conversation. “And now I have a book for you, Nurse,” she announced after a cough. She leaned further this time, fishing around in the drawer of her side table before pulling out a book – an actual book with pages and binding, a book that looked well-loved and valuable. “Don’t worry about returning it, I’ve read it dozens of times.”

There were Kardasi letters running down the spine of the book, perfectly readable from the angle Julian stood: _Essential Passages from the Hebitian Records._

But Garak made no move to accept the book, surprise breaking through his mask. “Oh, no, I really couldn’t accept…”

“I insist.” Kel gave him no choice, pushing the book into Garak’s hands. “It’s not an enigma tale, but I think it’ll show you a different side of Cardassian culture that isn’t reflected in more contemporary literature. Dr. El Fadil might even like it.” She shot Julian a grin.

But Julian was too busy eyeing Palandine over his padd, because suddenly her smile didn’t look quite as bright, a small crease between her eye ridges.

A thick silence descended, but Garak didn’t let it linger long, accepting Kel’s gift with a perfectly pleasant smile. “If there aren’t any extravagant heroes or incompetent villains then I doubt Sid will be interested.” He spent a few moments flipping through the pages before tucking the book under his arm and returning to his console.

Julian’s only response to that was a teasing glare, a little too tired after that all-nighter to be coaxed into their usual banter. It had nothing to do with Palandine’s presence, of course.

Kel and Palandine returned to their conversation after that, leaving Julian and Garak to continue feigning productivity. Well, he really didn’t know what Garak was doing over at the console, but his eyes continued running over the same test results as he observed the Cardassian woman. But there was nothing in her face or posture that seemed to suggest she had recognized Garak. She behaved just as she had during every other visit.

But after a few minutes Palandine announced that she would need to leave soon, so Julian gave her and Kel some privacy for the rest of their visit, taking Garak with him as he left the curtained section.

They were at the medication station in the front of the ward when Palandine came out a few minutes later.

“Thank you again for all you’ve done for Kel,” the woman said, and there was that mix of relief and joy shining on her face again.

Julian returned her smile and met her raised palm. “Of course. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Palandine turned to the door, but as she was leaving, she brushed close past Garak and whispered under her breath, barely audible to Julian’s ears.

“It’s better this way.”

She looked over her shoulder and flashed a smile before leaving the isolation ward.

 

* * *

 

For the first time since Julian had arrived on Cardassia Prime, the isolation ward was empty. In just four days after he had discovered the cure for the plague, all seven patients had made a full recovery and were discharged from Central Hospital.

The isolation ward would hardly stay that way for long, refugees from the colonies continuing to arrive every day, but at least they would be equipped to treat them. The task now was to continue producing the antibiotic, both for use at the hospital and to send to the clinics in the colonies. Of course, Rhemeny had been certain to take a few vials back to produce at Central Command’s medical production facility.

But first the Science Ministry expected a full report on the development of thyprokozin, and it was that report Julian was working on when his office door chimed.

He was half expecting Telma – he had been avoiding her since the Rugal incident, after all – so the sight of Parmak was quite a relief. But he could quickly tell that Parmak wasn’t his normal cheery self as he removed his sanitary mask.

“I don’t have the best of news, I’m afraid,” Parmak announced, dispensing with the usual pleasantries.  

Julian set down his stylus as Parmak took a seat across from him, giving the doctor his full attention.

“I’ve just spoken to Councillor Ferrok at the Science Ministry, and he made it quite clear they intend to give Rhemeny full credit for the development of thyprokozin.”

Julian couldn’t quite keep the frown off his face, but as unpleasant as that was to hear, it was hardly surprising. “I see.”

“You have every right to be upset, Doctor. You worked tirelessly for almost two months on that cure, and Rhemeny has no right to claim it as his own when he only contributed one peptide.”

Yes, the peptide that had made the drug potent enough to inhibit the bacteria’s metabolism… Really, it was possible Rhemeny had purposely kept his reasons for studying _kaghey_ mold to himself precisely for this reason, so that he could take the credit for finding the cure.

But that didn’t change the fact that Rhemeny’s involvement had ultimately worked toward the greater good. A man who had helped take a life had also helped save thousands.

Julian met Parmak’s questioning eyes with a shrug. “Let him have the credit.” He rose from his chair and headed to the replicator, continuing as he went. “My patients have made a full recovery, and hundreds of more lives will be saved in the colonies. That’s all that really matters.”

Yes, recognition was nice, but a few awards and speeches and classy receptions were hardly why he had gone into medicine. And they had never been an option here.

But that wasn’t enough to convince Parmak, it seemed. “Of course that’s the priority, but you still deserve to be credited for your discovery,” he insisted, following Julian with his gaze. “You’re young, fresh out of your residency, and an accomplishment like this would be instrumental in advancing your career, even if you were only given partial credit.”

Julian was back at the table now, carefully sliding a mug of _gelat_ to Parmak – he looked like he could use it. But as touching as Parmak’s concern was, this wasn’t a topic he wanted to linger on. And the last thing he needed was Parmak causing a stir. “I’m planning to submit a report to the Federation Medical Council once my work here is finished,” he explained, returning to his seat. “And I’m sure they’ll be interested to review my findings.”

“Ah. I only hope they will believe your word over the Cardassian Science Ministry.” Parmak paused for a moment to enjoy his _gelat_ , sipping the beverage contemplatively. “Councillor Ferrok did authorize an extension of your practice here, if you still wish to assist in the production and administration of the drug. But after the way they’ve snubbed you, I really wouldn’t blame you if you’ve changed your mind.”

Julian smiled, bright and kind without any of the relief he was feeling. “I’d like to stay until we’ve synthesized enough of the drug to supply the majority of the colonies.”

It would be a challenge to meet the demand with replicator use still limited by Cardassia City’s energy shortage, especially while simultaneously meeting vaccine production quotas. So that would secure him some more time, at least.

“As you wish. And thank you.” Parmak’s lip’s curled to match Julian’s smile, and that suited him far better than those worry lines. “At least I can express my gratitude, and the gratitude of this hospital, for all the work you have done to aid us.”

Laughter slipped out before Julian could stop it. “Which you’ve already done three times now.” Yes, Parmak had been quite ecstatic ever since Kel had been discharged from the hospital, the first of his patients to be cured, and what started as endearing was becoming the least bit annoying. “Really, Parmak, I’m not bothered by this.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Parmak conceded, raising a palm. “I presume Nurse Robinson will be staying as well?”

Julian grinned over his _gelat,_ grateful for the change in topic.  “If Andy hasn’t grown too tired of me.”

“Somehow I don’t think that’s likely, not with the way he adores you.”

There was an inexplicable warmth rising to Julian’s cheeks, but really, ‘adore’ was a strong word. Garak enjoyed his company, yes, but…

Parmak’s voice drew him back to the conversation. “But perhaps I might borrow him for a game of _kotra_ at lunch some time, now that your schedules won’t be quite as hectic.”

“Oh, please do.” He offered his best pleading expression, not very convincing as it cracked into a smile. “Maybe he’ll finally stop trying to rope me into a game. He always takes such cruel pleasure in seeing me lose.” Fortunately it had been a few weeks since Garak had last asked, suddenly more interested in other uses of their free time, but Parmak hardly needed to know that.

Parmak gave his complaint the sympathetic nod it deserved, a little twinkle in his eyes. “That doesn’t surprise me.” He leaned a little closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I must admit, he did tend to unnerve me early in our acquaintance.”

Julian let out a laugh. “Oh, that’s just one of his _kotra_ strategies,” he assured him. “You just have to ignore him.”

“It’s not just in _kotra_ , though.” And now Parmak’s smile seemed to have dimmed, forming a contemplative line. “There’s something strangely… familiar about him.”

But Julian’s smile didn’t waver, even as Parmak leaned in further, glancing around the room before proceeding.

“Reincarnation isn’t an acceptable belief on Cardassia anymore, and it falls far outside the realm of science… but there’s something about Nurse Robinson that makes me feel like our souls have met in some previous existence.”

 

* * *

 

If they had been pressed for time before, then now they had nearly run out. Dukat hadn’t yet made his move, even with the constabularies at his command, and the Bureau had yet to stray too close, but now that Julian had cured the plague, it was only a matter of time before Central Hospital no longer had use for him. He could only keep busy synthesizing and administering his antibiotic for so long before the Science Ministry decided to send the Human doctor and nurse home.

But even with this increased pressure placed upon them, they had yet to break this inconvenient new standstill. They had come home that evening to learn that Regnok had declined their second attempt to lure him out of the city, again citing the nebulous “previous engagement” that prevented him from attending Legate Khivas’ retirement party. It seemed Ilya hadn’t been exaggerating Regnok’s antisocial behavior.

That left them with the challenge of finding yet another out-of-city event that was important enough to request Regnok’s presence, and relevant enough to pique a Changeling’s interest. And perhaps Telma and her unspecified amount of contacts would have been some help here, could have pulled the right strings, but Julian wasn’t quite ready to talk to her again. Besides, he trusted Garak’s abilities.

But Garak’s abilities were focused on something a little different right now.

Oh, he had put in _some_ effort that evening, running a newly adjusted decryption algorithm in his latest attempt to access the Council and Bureau. But while the computer was occupied with that, they were to sift through the daily surveillance logs that they had downloaded onto padds to review on the couch, the ‘casts babbling quietly in the background.

And it was already a challenge for Julian to stay focused, because how long had it been since these logs had offered them any useful piece of information, except that Dukat confined his shady dealings to after hours? Still, it had to be done.

But it seemed Garak had lost interest entirely in their task, far more interested in devouring Julian’s neck than any of the surveillance logs.

And it was becoming a little difficult to stay focused under such attentions. “I thought you wanted to finish this first,” Julian said, setting down his padd with a sigh. But even when he granted Garak the pleasure of making him squirm, the Cardassian refused to stop his treatment.

“Well, my dear, it’s hardly _my_ fault when you put your neck on display like that.” He was certain to emphasize the point, sucking on a section of skin above the collar of Julian’s shirt, just something casual he had changed into after work.

“Oh, how thoughtless of me to wear something with a normal neckline. I’m practically asking for it.”

“At least you acknowledge that.” Garak continued his devious distractions, earning a small shiver for his troubles. “And really, Julian, after the years you spent teasing me, you can hardly blame me if I overindulge.” He pressed a kiss to the underside of Julian’s jaw, mouthing against the short hairs of his beard, hardly bothered by them now. “But don’t let me interrupt you, dear. Carry on.”

Julian just rolled his eyes at that, the only response he would dignify Garak with, refusing to sigh as his lover’s mouth traveled back down, teeth scraping the crook of his neck. And with Garak’s body pressed so close, face nuzzled against his neck, it was hard not to remember the first time anything like this had happened on this couch – but under very different circumstances – when Garak had been dangerously close to hypothermia and desperate for body warmth. A very convenient accident, now that he thought about it. But now Garak was sucking another hickey into his skin and yes, things had certainly changed.

Perhaps they had both overindulged at the start of this, but things were finally starting to settle down, even if Garak’s current actions suggested otherwise. Nights without sex were becoming less rare, but that was more because of their mission than anything else – with time running out, they had no choice but prioritize. That didn’t mean there was any conflict between them – quite the opposite actually, still as affectionate as ever, playful banter and touches that they might never grow tired of.

It was interesting, though, how they had never discussed those words spoken by Palandine, words that most certainly meant she knew Garak’s identity. And that probably meant that Garak didn’t consider her knowledge a threat, so there was really no use worrying over it, but that led to another interesting conclusion, something that seemed to confirm Julian’s theory about the woman. Garak was hardly one to offer his trust freely, after all.

But Garak didn’t seem to be making any attempts to contact Palandine – actually, he had been noticeably absent for Kel’s discharge from the hospital – so he would leave the matter be. If Garak didn’t care to share, no amount of prodding would get the truth out of him. And that wasn’t exactly the way to foster trust either.

But that was really the least of their concerns at the moment, because at this point in the mission, their minds needed to stay focused on the endgame. And after long days proving they could still be valuable assets to the hospital, and long nights in front of the console, it seemed that exhaustion was finally taking its toll.

But not tonight, it seemed, even if Julian was determined to stay on task. But that was still proving difficult, even with his refusal to indulge in Garak’s touch, because his attentions were suddenly drawn to the ‘casts.

_“Tonight we are joined by a renowned doctor, the man most recently known for curing the Rudellian plague – Dr. Doran Rhemeny. Dr. Rhemeny is slated to receive the esteemed Ahva Muvi’r Award for spearheading this brilliant medical breakthrough.”_

Julian offered no comments as the segment rolled on, nothing but pleasant indifference on his face, but somehow Garak must have sensed the minute tension in his shoulders, pulling back to study him carefully. At least he had finally stopped teasing him.

“You know, my dear, I expected you to be at least _mildly_ upset about this. You put quite a few hours into that antibiotic.”

A sigh escaped before Julian could stop it, but even with so many complaints on his lips, he would show some restraint. Rhemeny was now out of his life, after all, besides the occasional ‘cast appearance. “It is rather annoying, but what other choice did I have? It’s not as if I can have my name and face broadcasted across the Cardassian Union.”

At worst, Dukat or Rejal would see his face and recognize him instantly, and at the very least, certain people might start taking a closer look into this Human doctor. If Rhemeny hadn’t come along, he would have insisted Parmak be credited for the cure. And that would have been far preferable to this, because at least Parmak would have responded to all this praise and hero-worship with a little humility.

But at least he no longer had to work with Rhemeny.

Garak’s smile seemed suddenly brighter, a peculiar twinkle dancing in his eyes. “Is that caution and foresight I hear from my dear Julian?” he asked, all delighted surprise. “Well, it’s starting to look like you may no longer need me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Why, at the rate you’re learning, it won’t be long before you’re a full-fledged operative,” Garak declared with far too much enthusiasm, a grin that Julian could never be sure was genuine. “Stealth, decryption, surveillance, interrogation, and now this display of sound judgment and mastery over your emotions… not to mention your grasp of Kardasi. I’ve never seen someone learn a language _quite_ that quickly.” He laid a proud hand on Julian’s shoulder.

If Julian tensed, it was only because he hadn’t been expecting that hand. “I’ve been told I have a gift for languages,” he said with a shrug, then turned on Garak with an amused grin of his own, just a hint of suspicion. “But that’s one of the least veiled compliments you’ve ever given me… I’m not sure I like this new Elim.”

Garak met his teasing grin with a nod, proper and deferential. “Ah, my apologies. Next time I will be certain to bury any praise in at least seven layers of irony.”

“I expect nothing less.”

Rhemeny’s interview ended and the ‘casts receded into background noise, intermingled with the not-so-distant wail of sirens. That had become a more common sound in recent days, as the constabularies seemed to slowly fall in line with Central Command’s authority. It had been weeks since Julian and Garak had walked the streets of Torr, but the sights outside their skimmer were enough to convey the atmosphere of fear that had settled over the sector. But even with that fear, there were still those brave or foolish individuals who rebelled, at least according to the constabularies’ new broadened definition of rebellion.

Garak stretched an arm out over the back of the couch, looking quite comfortable with his stack of unread padds. “Well, I do hope you explained your decision to Parmak in so many words,” he said, offering a grin. “Otherwise you might have a very indignant doctor on your behalf right now.”

“He was actually the one who told me about the Science Ministry’s decision. We had a pleasant chat this morning.” Julian picked up his padd and feigned disinterest, and he could feel Garak’s eyes on him as he added casually, “Your name came up a few times.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm. It seems Parmak is convinced he’s met you in a past life.”

Garak gave the notion a long and proper laugh, not something Julian heard very often, or what he had been expecting. “I’m afraid our dear Dr. Parmak has quite the imagination.” A few more chuckles and his laughter had faded, pursing his lips thoughtfully. “But if he does see something familiar in me, it would be best if I avoided further interaction.”

“I don’t know if you’ll be able to,” Julian admitted, so much remorse in his cheeky grin. “I might have promised him a game of _kotra_ with you.”

Garak’s gaze flashed back to Julian, deeply and very genuinely offended. “Perhaps I should retract my previous compliments about your judgment…”

“Too late for that, my dear Elim.” But he still offered an apology, just a quick kiss on the temple as he rose from the couch. “My enormous ego has already been stroked.”

But Garak was hardly placated, even if he was feeling lazy, turning around to follow Julian with his gaze. “You know, my dear, if I had realized that a relationship with you meant you would abuse the privilege of using my first name, I may have given the matter more consideration.”

Julian’s scoff rang out from their makeshift kitchen. “Oh yes, you certainly jumped into bed with me without giving it any consideration.” He was soon back on the couch with a ration bar for each of them, tucking his legs up under himself. “Then would you rather I call you Andy instead? Moan _‘oh fuck me, Andy!’_ in the throes of passion?”

Garak hardly looked impressed with the idea. “I never did think that name suited me,” he tutted, accepting his dinner.

And at one point, Julian would have agreed, when everything was so new and this Human face hardly suited him, but like everything else, the name was growing on him.

Garak took a bite before continuing. “It’s just been a while since I’ve heard my first name spoken so often. For years I heard it nowhere but my inner monologues.”

That was no one’s fault but Garak’s, of course, but he would humor the Cardassian for now. “Oh?” Julian asked around a bland bite. “And what did your inner monologues usually tell you? ‘Be careful, Elim. Do not succumb to the dear doctor’s temptations. He is but an _homme fatale_ trying to seduce you to the Federation’s dark and treacherous ways?”

He had given it his best performance, complete with hand gestures and soaring expression, but Garak didn’t seem very flattered by the impression.

“Actually, it was more like ‘oh, Elim, look at the dear Doctor trying clumsily to seduce you. You better show him how it’s done.’”

And suddenly he was swooping in, arms folding around Julian as he claimed a kiss.

But Julian immediately pulled away, hardly in the mood for that when there was still food in his mouth. “Except I recall showing _you_ how it’s done,” he retorted, worming his way out of Garak’s grasp.

“And when you have your body, your physiognomy, your sexual organs completely rearranged, I’ll be there to guide you through it.”

 

* * *

 

He had just entered his office, doors hissing closed behind him, when his wrist comm beeped.

And when Telma’s voice came over the comm link, Julian was more than a little tempted to cut the comm. But it had already been more than a week since he had last spoken to her, and she had respected that decision thus far. This might be important.

He tapped his wrist, not bothering to remove his sanitary mask yet. “What is it?”

 _“Doctor, you’re needed in the isolation ward,”_ Telma’s voice came over the comm. _“And I would suggest you hurry.”_

“On my way.”

His mind was already flipping through the possibilities of what might greet him – a critically ill patient who had just been admitted, or perhaps one of his two new patients had had a reaction to the antibiotic – when his office door chimed.

He opened the door hastily.

“You’re Dr. El Fadil, yes? It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Meya Rejal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fanfic isn't completely faithful to the A Stitch in Time timeline, since in ASIT Kel was already considering leaving the Institute for State Policy before Garak was exiled. So that probably makes her a little younger in my timeline if she's still in the process of her formal education.
> 
> And for anyone who likes Cards Against Humanity, [the_last_dillards](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_last_dillards) is hosting a DS9 themed online CAH game this Saturday, October 5 at 2 PM Central. I've seen some of the cards and oh my goodness, this should be a really fun game! Check out the-last-dillards' [tumblr](https://the-last-dillards.tumblr.com/post/187986076865/the-last-dillards-looking-to-make-a-ds9-themed) for more info and updates. The more the merrier! (If you miss this game, there will probably be more in the future.)
> 
> Tune in next week for a word from the chief executor.


	37. Rejal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian meets Chief Executor Rejal. Garak discovers some troubling new information.

He was the picture of composure as Rejal strode into his office, not a hint of shock or anxiety or any of the thoughts racing through his mind. At least he hoped that was the case.

Meya Rejal had a composure of her own, an easy dignity befitting any head of state, even if her appearance didn’t quite live up to what was shown on the ‘casts. She looked much older in person, deep lines carved under her eyes and streaks of grey peeking out from her elaborately pinned-up black hair. It wasn’t easy to determine more from her face with the sanitary mask she wore, but that was fine with Julian. He wasn’t very keen on taking his off at the moment either.

But that was the most observation he could spare at the moment, because the Chief Executor of the Detapa Council was now standing in his office, her two-man security detail waiting outside, and she was certainly engaged in her own observation. So he would play the gracious host, clearing off a spot at his research table for this unexpected and dangerous guest.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting any guests,” he apologized, making his voice just the least bit deeper. “Can I get you anything? Tea? _Gelat?_ ”

“No, that’s quite all right.” Rejal took the seat that was offered, perfectly at ease in the cluttered office. “I can’t stay for long, but I just wanted to stop in and meet you. I’ve heard quite a few things about you.”

Julian slid into the chair across from her, meeting her gaze unflinchingly. “Is that so?”

Rejal seemed to be smiling under her mask now, her eyes a warm hazel. “Don’t worry, they were all quite favorable. Dr. Parmak informed me of how instrumental you were in the development of thyprokozin. He thinks very highly of your work.”

There was nothing in her manner to suggest she was lying, but this certainly wasn’t what he had expected when he had opened the door to find Meya Rejal standing there. But if Parmak had indeed told Rejal about him, that sweet, well-intentioned doctor might have just cost them everything.

“That’s very kind of him, but it was a group effort,” Julian responded, offering a masked smile of his own. “Dr. Parmak laid much of the groundwork with his vaccine, and I conducted the early research and clinical trials before Dr. Rhemeny came onto the project.”

“Nevertheless, I want to thank you personally for the work you have done at this hospital, Dr. El Fadil.” There was nothing but kindness in Rejal’s eyes – the practiced, polished kindness that every politician had to learn, the kind she wore when offering soothing, empty words as she allowed the slaughter of hundreds in Torr. “Cardassia will not soon forget the aid our Federation neighbors have given us in these trying times.”

Julian accepted the chief executor’s gratitude without a hint of suspicion on his face, even as he waited for the conversation to take a more serious turn. “It’s been an honor to work with such fine doctors like Parmak and Rhemeny.” He kept his gaze focused steadily on her as his mind wandered about the room, searching for any possible escape routes, but there weren’t any. With the bodyguards standing outside the door, his office had become a prison.

“Yes, they are some of Cardassia’s finest doctors,” Rejal agreed, lacing her fingers together. “Rhemeny’s long and storied career has earned him the respect and admiration of many in the community, and it is during these times of war that the public needs a man like Rhemeny on the ‘casts.”

Yes, he knew exactly what Rhemeny had done to earn Rejal’s respect. But he let her continue, and suddenly there was a little less of that artificial pleasantness in her eyes, a bit more candor.

“I will be frank with you, Doctor – this has not been an easy year for the Cardassian Union, threatened by war and disease from the Klingons and the Maquis. It has done a lot of good for the people to tune into the ‘casts and see Dr. Rhemeny – someone not too different from themselves – making such an impact in service to the State. It has inspired millions.”

Julian’s hands folded together under the table, just the least bit of energy that he had to keep steady. If the circumstances of this conversation were different, now was when he would point out the great opportunity this afforded Cardassia, the opportunity to strengthen relations with the Federation and show the Cardassian public that foreigners could benefit their society in some small way. But he held his tongue. This wasn’t a diplomatic mission.

Yes, she could claim what she liked about the Science Ministry’s decision to credit Rhemeny entirely for the development of the cure, that this was all to raise the public’s morale…or perhaps the public’s opinion of Rejal.

But that was the least of his concerns right now, because even as he sat across from the Chief Executor of the Detapa Council, he couldn’t determine the level of danger he was in. He had been watching her closely since the beginning of this conversation, watching for any hint of recognition in her eyes, but she had concealed everything behind her amiable decorum.

And perhaps she _didn’t_ recognize him – there was a small chance at least, with the limited interaction they had had on the _Defiant_. He hadn’t even been the one administer her blood screening, too busy wrestling a drop of blood from a petulant Dukat. And maybe the beard and longer hair had actually worked in his favor.

But he really couldn’t judge anything by appearances here, not with a Cardassian. If she did know who he was, he needed to make some small attempt to salvage things.

“Well, that’s certainly good to hear,” he remarked after a moment, nothing but pleasantness in his voice. “I did all that I could to join the Federation Civilian Relief Effort, and I’m happy to provide whatever help I can.”

Rejal lifted her gaze, meeting Julian’s eyes pointedly. “And that help hasn’t gone unnoticed, Dr. El Fadil. Rest assured I will pass along my compliments to the Federation Medical Council.”

And with that the chief executor was rising from her chair, smoothing out the wrinkles from her suit as she turned to leave. A few parting words and she was gone, leaving Julian alone in his office.

And for a moment he just stood there motionless by the door, trying to process all that had just happened, replaying every word and look and gesture that might reveal the truth behind that interaction, even as the truth eluded him.

But he was still here. He hadn’t been arrested. If she really did consider him a threat to her Dominion plot, or even to Cardassia more generally, then she certainly would have done something about it.

But on the other hand, Cardassians were hardly known to operate in such a straightforward manner. Perhaps a public arrest wasn’t her style. Perhaps she had been feeling him out, determining just how to proceed with this dubious threat. And if her words had held any subtext, then perhaps she was planning to contact Starfleet and ask why one of their officers was visiting Cardassia under a false name.

But that was the best of the possible outcomes, because he doubted Starfleet Intelligence was unprepared for such a call. But Rejal might very well take this matter into her own hands, and the hands of Cardassian justice.

They had been really lucky after the bathhouse, finding no more evidence that the Bureau was watching them, but now that luck had just run out. They had avoided public settings outside of the hospital, but perhaps that hadn’t been enough. Perhaps Julian had been too focused on the possibility of Central Hospital ending the assignment that he had forgotten to watch for other, more dangerous threats.

But even with such a realization, that was all the time Julian had to consider this at the moment. He would find some time to discuss it with Garak, to see just how much of a threat he considered this, and how they should proceed, but for now he needed to return to his report. The less he inconvenienced the Science Ministry, the better.

He sat down at the console with this goal in mind, but when his foot swung forward and hit the wall, there was a strange crunch.

He was quickly on his knees, crawling under the console to see what exactly his dumb luck had just broken – and there it was, a small, half-smashed disk attached to the wall under the console. He reached down and grabbed the little disk, taking it into his hands for a closer look, and even in its damaged state he recognized it.

It was a recording device.

 

* * *

 

He hadn’t told Garak yet. It just wasn’t safe anymore, that much was clear. If one surveillance device could slip past all of their scans, then there was no telling how many more were hidden in the places Julian had once considered safe. His office, even after the meticulous scans he had run upon finding the device, modulating his tricorder to scan specifically for its predominate alloy, was no longer safe. The skimmer also couldn’t be considered safe.

Their apartment might not be safe either, even as he was currently scanning every corner for any hint of surveillance.

 But he had to tell Garak; the matter was far too urgent to put off any longer. It had been tugging at his mind all day, even as he forced himself to continue his work, kept busy by a new patient in the isolation ward. Still, the isolation ward was rarely as busy as it had been before the cure – most patients were administered the drug and kept for at least twenty-six hours, until they were deemed no longer contagious.

But somehow none of that could distract him from this looming threat, and he had had to keep it to himself until now, even when he had run into Telma in the hall. It wouldn’t have been safe to tell her either.

But now every scan was coming up clear in their apartment, so perhaps it was finally safe to discuss this.

He approached the console where Garak was already immersed in his operative duties, hand slipping into his pocket to finger the damaged device. “Garak, there’s something we need to discuss.”

But when Garak swiveled his chair around to face Julian, it was as if he somehow already knew, concern unusually clear on his face. “I think I’ll take my shower early this week,” he announced, an indifference that hardly matched his expression. “You’re welcome to join me.”

He had no choice but to agree, confused as he was, because that wasn’t all what he had expected and there had to be a deeper reason behind it. And that theory was all but confirmed as they began to strip in the bathroom, Garak slipping off his trousers with no erection to boast.

Julian waited only until they were both inside the shower, sonic vibrations pulsing around them, before opening his mouth to begin. But his words came out at the same time as Garak’s, an unintelligible jumble of sounds until they both cut off.

And for a second no one was speaking, until Garak insisted, “You first, my dear.”

“Rejal came by my office today. Chief Executor Rejal.”

He was watching Garak’s face carefully, and even in the dim light of the shower, it was clear he had caught Garak off guard.

Garak swept his gaze over Julian, clearly awaiting more information. “…I take it she didn’t recognize you?”

“That’s the problem,” Julian sighed, no longer controlling his frown. “I’m not really sure. She claimed she was visiting to express her personal gratitude for my ‘contribution’ to the plague project, since apparently Parmak had told her about me. And she didn’t act like she recognized me, but after she left, I found a recording device under my console.”

Garak’s frown was a mirror image of Julian’s, but for that hint of censure that was hardly necessary right now. “I thought you had been doing daily security sweeps of your office.”

“I have been,” was Julian’s defense. “But this one eluded my scans. It’s composed primarily of diamide, the same alloy as the console, so the tricorder must have read it as part of the console.” And it wasn’t as if he had known to scan specifically for diamide, since this was the first time he had encountered it in a recording device.

“That would be the way to do it…” Garak mused, a strange sort of respect in that admittance. “I should have been more proactive in my own scans. But we may at least be able to determine who has been spying on you. If you scan for any biometric markers – ”

“Already tried that. No trace of fingerprints or DNA. They were careful.” He watched as Garak considered the information, obviously displeased but still so calm, even as tension was coiling in Julian’s body, unaffected by the sonic vibrations humming around him. But Julian was still searching for anything to make this better, any chance that this situation wasn’t quite so dire. “Of course there’s always a chance it’s just Telma – that would explain how she knew about Rugal – but if not… I think we’re in trouble. Both of us.”

Garak’s eyes locked back onto Julian, and his expression was hardly one to inspire confidence. “I hate to dampen the mood further, but I’m afraid my news makes that even more likely. The decryption program I ran yesterday succeeded in regaining access to the Bureau’s database, and I was finally able to access your records a few metrics ago. There is more than a public lewdness infraction now, I’m afraid.”

And with that, Julian’s heart sank into his stomach. “Then they do know who I am.”

“It wouldn’t appear so,” Garak informed, and that was enough to ease some of the devastation. But he wouldn’t allow Julian to relax too much. “At least not yet. But there is a holo-pic taken of you by what appears to be hospital surveillance, and a note stating that there is a conflict with the image on your passenger manifest. And then another note, which I find most peculiar, with the orders to await further instructions before engaging.”

“What?” Julian scrunched his brow, but that hardly helped him process this new information.

But really, this could be a lot worse. They still had some time, maybe, at least until the Bureau decided to run his image through the extraplanetary intelligence database they certainly kept.

“All right, so they don’t know my identity yet, but they know there’s a discrepancy with my documents,” he summarized after a steady inhale. “So why haven’t they done anything yet? That seems like more than enough to draw their suspicions.”

Garak heaved a sigh. “I’m afraid I don’t have that answer, Julian. If this were the Obsidian Order, you would probably be in an interrogation chamber as we speak, but instead the Bureau has assigned some low-level operative named Kulos to watch you.” He paused, letting his eyes dance around the shower in thought. “But Alon Ghemor is hardly known for his boldness. My only guess is that he didn’t want to risk exacerbating tensions between Cardassia and the Federation with such a bold move against one of their citizens, and was waiting to learn exactly what you are doing here before making his move… Or he could really just have been that incompetent.”

Both were possible, Julian supposed, but not everything was adding up here. “If that was their recording device, then they might already know why I’m here, unless they only started listening recently,” he pointed out, and that wasn’t a pleasant conclusion. But it didn’t seal their fate quite yet, because as far as he recalled they hadn’t discussed anything related to the assignment since he had accused Garak of erasing Rugal’s memory, and that had been more than a week ago.

But he almost always called Garak by his real name in that office…

“What about your record?” he asked, looking back up. “Do they know who you are?”

“It doesn’t appear so. My record is unchanged.”

“Then was there anything in my records to indicate how long they’ve been watching me?”

Garak shook his head. “No, but I am unable to access areas of the database that require a higher security clearance. Still, we can assume it was sometime after I lost access to their database.”

Julian’s gaze fell to the strange patterns on the wall behind Garak, but even as his mind ran through all of their recent actions, the bathhouse and the interrogation and Rugal and that snide remark to Rhemeny, he kept coming back to the same possible conclusion, something he hadn’t given much thought until now.

“I think this might be my fault.” Worry had seeped into his voice. “Back when Rugal gave me Pa’Dar’s personal logs, I found that Regnok’s earlier medical records were restricted, so I used Pa’Dar’s authorization code to access them. I know I should have waited until we were back at the apartment, but at the time I was only focused on uncovering the truth about Regnok.”

Garak answered this admission with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That was indeed an oversight. If those men at the bathhouse were Bureau agents, then they had already been watching you, but I’m sure that didn’t help matters.” And that was all the criticism he offered, much to Julian’s surprise, disapproval fading into serious concern. “But regardless of when they started watching you, our time may nearly be out. Alon Ghemor has just tendered his resignation, if the files I found are to be believed, and we can be certain that the replacement Rejal appoints will be far more cooperative than Ghemor.”

Julian’s frown only darkened at that, because they really didn’t need any more bad news right now. “So even if Rejal doesn’t know about me yet, she’ll soon find out.”

“Along with Dukat and Regnok,” Garak nodded bleakly, an expression that he hardly ever allowed to cross his face. “We can only hope that the transition period will give us the time we need to disappear.”

Yes, it was clear that the risk had become too great and they could no longer do nothing, but still, the answer was hardly straightforward when they still had a job to do. There had to be more options than the one Garak was certain to propose.

“All right, I agree we need to do something now, but we can’t just abandon our mission. Not when we’re so close.”

“And we might not need to,” Garak replied, taking a step closer to Julian. “We may find other ways to obtain Regnok’s war plans, but first we must disappear from the Bureau’s radar. Whether that means only leaving this apartment or leaving Prime altogether, I do not know. The Bureau’s counterintelligence may be as little as observing you at that bathhouse, or they may be watching your every move. Once we are out of danger, we will decide our next course of action.”

Julian needed only a moment to consider it before deciding. “Then we need Telma,” he said, placing a hand on Garak’s arm. “First thing tomorrow morning we have to talk to her.” Yes, they would have to risk another night here, but even with all these unknown factors and Telma’s dubious credibility, it looked like their best option. She had to be prepared for something like this, after all, and he wasn’t ready to leave Prime.

But Garak didn’t seem to agree, his scowl making that quite clear. “I would rather not trust that woman with our lives, Julian. We still can’t be certain she will help us, even if it’s in Starfleet’s best interest.”

“Yes, but it’s not just _our_ lives we’re dealing with here,” Julian countered. “If the Bureau has been listening in on the conversations in my office, then Telma’s cover has also been compromised. It’s in her best interest if we all get out of this safely.”

And that included Parmak and Rugal, because they would be in just as much trouble if the Bureau was watching his office. But bringing that up might only spark an argument now as Garak considered his proposal, because such a pragmatic mind would hardly make that his priority.

Still, Julian didn’t intend to leave them at the mercy of the Cardassian Intelligence Bureau.

Garak took another moment to consider it before responding, tilting his head thoughtfully. “She does seem to have the resources to evade the Bureau’s tracking…” Yes, and she had also evaded Garak, which was no small feat. “…Very well. I will risk involving her.”

Honestly, Julian was a little surprised to have reached agreement without at least one impassioned speech or raised voice, but this was far preferable. It relieved just the least bit of tension from his body.

“All right. Now we should get out of the shower before we deplete our entire week’s energy ration,” he suggested, just in case they couldn’t leave quite as soon. “I already scanned the apartment for surveillance this evening, including diamide devices, so it should be safe to speak freely. But you’re welcome to run your own scans.”

“I intend to. We have much to prepare before tomorrow.”

 

* * *

 

Neither of them had slept last night. It had taken quite a bit of time to prepare for today, whatever today would bring, but they had to be ready. Their little apartment had undergone its most thorough surveillance sweep to date, every nook and cranny examined by the Obsidian Order’s finest, scanning for every kind of surveillance device known to Human and Cardassian, and even scanning themselves just to be certain.

But after their scans came up clear and they found no indications on Dukat’s work console that he knew about them, they were finally able to relax – if relaxing meant constant monitoring of nearby surveillance cameras out on the street.

It could never be said that Garak wasn’t prepared, even planning an emergency getaway if that became necessary. He had a few contingency plans, he mentioned, that they could consider as a last resort, but only when they were ready to abandon their mission entirely. Now that they were being tracked, it made matters more difficult. But Julian wasn’t ready to give up, even if that meant relying on Telma, and by how furiously Garak worked to keep them safe for another night, it was clear he was still in this as well.

They had already packed a few cases of their most important items – Garak’s hypos, his tailor kit, and padds and data rods downloaded with key intelligence they had collected – just in case one of Garak’s plans went into effect. Garak would need those hypos to keep his body stable for however much longer this assignment lasted, and Julian only had a few in his medkit for emergencies.

But awake or asleep, the night passed without any appearances from the Cardassian Intelligence Bureau. And their luck seemed to continue during their longer, circuitous route to Central Hospital the next morning, no signs of anyone on their tail.

It didn’t take them long to locate Telma when they walked through the main entrance, greeted by her bright eyes from behind the front desk. Julian returned her greeting and the greetings of the nurses around her, slipping behind the desk to pull her aside.

“Nurse, can I have a word with you in my office?”

Telma cast a glance over to the crowded foyer, the long line of patients that was growing steadily as they spoke. “I’d like to, but I’ve got no one to cover for me at the moment. We’ve been rather understaffed this morning.”

He was already running through the list of nurses in his mind when Garak took a step forward. “Go with Sid. I would be happy to cover for you,” he said, offering his best customer service smile.

Telma’s gaze flickered back to Julian with a knowing look, and she gave no more opposition, following Julian down the hall to his office. And as much as Julian would have liked Garak to be involved in this conversation, at least Garak was willing to trust him with it.

Either way, this had certainly piqued Telma’s curiosity, and she waited only until the doors had closed to remove her mask and speak. 

“Now what is so urgent, J–”

Julian held up a hand to stop her, his mask already off. “I think it’s time my office had another thorough cleaning,” he said simply. “Would you mind?”

“Of course.”

There was a faint smile tugging at Telma’s mouth as she did as he asked, producing a tricorder from her pocket to start her scans. She moved in much the same pattern as Julian had yesterday, console to table to replicator to wall sconces, and perhaps it was redundant, but he needed to be absolutely certain it was safe to discuss this. It was either here or his skimmer, and he would rather not be seen sitting in a parked skimmer with Telma.

But it looked like that wouldn’t be necessary, because after a good few minutes of searching, Telma turned back to him with a favorable report. “We’re clear. It’s safe to speak freely, Julian.” She returned to his side, flipping her tricorder closed and giving him her full attention. “Now what’s on your mind?”

Julian took a step closer just to be certain. “We need to go into hiding,” he said, barely above a whisper. “All three of us.”

Her smug little smile immediately faded, but it was more in confusion than the surprise he had expected. “What happened? Yesterday I warned you –”

“It was hardly a warning,” Julian cut her off. “And it came too late. Rejal was already at my office.”

Telma frowned, and finally she seemed properly concerned by this. “Did she recognize you?”

“I couldn’t tell. She claimed she was only dropping by to commend my plague research, but after she left, I found this under the console.” He drew the recording device from his pocket.

Telma accepted the damaged device and turned it around in her hand, examining it closely. “And you only discovered this yesterday?”

“Yes,” Julian confirmed, then lowered his voice a touch further. “I don’t know who it belongs to or when it was planted, but if it’s been there for any longer than a week, we might all be in trouble – you, me, Garak, even Dr. Parmak.”

But suddenly Telma no longer looked very concerned, furrows smoothing from her brow as that wry smile returned. “I don’t think you need to worry about this, Julian,” was all she said, slipping the device into her pocket.

Julian immediately understood. “It’s yours then.”

Telma’s smile only grew in confirmation as she took a step back, starting a leisurely stroll around the room. “You don’t look very happy about that,” she observed casually. “Would you rather it be Rejal’s then? Or the Bureau’s? Or Dukat’s?”

Julian remained where he stood. “I’d rather it not be in my office at all.”

“I assure you, Julian, it was only for your protection.”

“Oh, is that why it was designed to be undetectable by general scans?”

His body was tensing, anger boiling deep beneath the surface, but no, he wouldn’t allow her to bait him like that. Still, it was impossible not to be bothered by all of this. It was clear now why she had planted the device, that she needed some way to keep an eye on them after they had discovered Garak’s thumbnail recording device. She might have bugged every room of the hospital for all he knew – at least that would explain how she seemed to know about Ilya’s interrogation. And really, he was tired of giving her the benefit of the doubt when she hadn’t earned it, when she sometimes seemed to be treating this like an elaborate game.

Telma, naturally, was unphased by his displeasure as she returned to where he stood, taking a seat in his chair and making herself comfortable. “Well, Julian, if you have such little faith in me, I’m surprised you’re even coming to me for help now.”

Julian’s frown deepened. “We don’t exactly have a choice. Even if they haven’t discovered my identity yet, we know they’re watching me. Garak found proof of that in the Bureau’s database, so it’s only a matter of time before they strike.”

He paused to let Telma respond, but she said nothing, a look of contemplation tempering her smirk.

“It’s clear we can’t stay where we are any longer,” Julian continued, some of the urgency slipping into his voice. “We need to find somewhere safe where we can continue this mission – and yes, we need your help with that.”

Telma lifted her chin to meet his eyes, still calm and measured beneath his troubled gaze. “I don’t think that will be feasible – or necessary, really.”

“How is it not necessary after what I just told you?”

“I’m not at liberty to tell you.”

His composure was threatening to crack now, anger burning deep in his chest, but he hardly cared anymore, glaring down at his contact with fiery eyes. “What _are_ you at liberty to tell me, Telma?” he shot back, voice rising to a harsh whisper. “Why I was requested for this assignment? How many people you have on Prime? Or why you trust Garak and me so little that you had to bug my office and _Garak’s goddamn thumbnail?_ ”

God, it was satisfying to finally air that question, and really, he couldn’t have cared less about their reasons for not asking it sooner.

But then Telma was rising from her seat, her smile still perfectly in place, and he remembered exactly why they had never bothered asking.

“If you and Garak are ready to abandon this assignment, then I will contact my superiors and see to it that you return to DS9 safely. But if you choose to continue, there will be no point relocating you, not with this new task I have for you.”

Julian’s hands fell to his side, and suddenly he no longer cared about her obvious obfuscation. “What new task?”

“The Science Ministry will be hosting its annual award reception at the Institute for State Policy tomorrow night,” Telma explained, a serious edge to her voice. “And I have it on good authority that Regnok will be in attendance.”

But before she could continue, he had a few questions. “But if that reception is at the Institute for State Policy, Regnok won’t be leaving the city. There will be too many security guards left at his house.” He didn’t bother explaining why that was relevant to his and Garak’s plan, because it was clear she knew all of their plans by now.

Telma’s eyes glinted. “You won’t need to go to his house, not when the Humans who played such an _instrumental_ role on the plague project have been invited to the reception.”

But this was hardly the plan he was hoping for, and certainly not enough to sacrifice their security. “Why would we risk going out in public now for a chance to spy on Regnok? We already have what we need to find his war plans, we just need the opportunity.”

And suddenly Telma’s eyes locked back onto his, an unusual intensity in her gaze. “I don’t want you to spy on him, Julian.” Her hand emerged from her pocket with a large spherical device, holding it up for Julian to examine. “I want you to expose him. With this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another relatively short chapter! Well, at least shorter than those monster chapters that kept happening for a while. The chapters leading up to Chapter 40 are all shaping out to be shorter.
> 
> My next chapter might be a little late because I'm going out of town next weekend. I'll get it out as soon as possible.
> 
> Tune in next week for a comparison, a decision, and a disagreement.


	38. Threat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Telma gives Julian a new task. Julian and Garak disagree over their next course of action.

“What is this?”

Julian accepted the metallic sphere from Telma’s grasp, an unfamiliar brass-colored device that felt remarkably light in his hand. There was a raised geometric pattern running along the ball’s surface, and a dark, round emitter that looked back at him like an eye.

“A polaron emitter,” Telma answered, watching as Julian studied it. “This modest device has been in development for the last six months. My superiors only just managed to send me a set – four, to be exact.”

Julian turned the device around in his hand, examining the small panel of controls on its side. “Does polaron radiation have some sort of destabilizing effect on Changelings?”

Telma nodded. “That’s the theory, yes. Starfleet Science has determined that a precise amount of polaron radiation will force a Changeling to revert to its liquid state. Too much radiation, however, will be fatal to anyone, and we can’t have Regnok becoming a martyr.”

“But I suppose they’ve never actually tested it,” Julian said, eyeing the emitter skeptically. This was hardly his field of expertise, but that didn’t exactly sound foolproof.

Telma’s shrug hardly inspired confidence. “It is still a prototype.”

Julian set the prototype down on his research table and looked back at her, still trying to wrap his head around what Telma was asking. “So you want me and Garak to attend this very public reception where Bureau agents are certain to be watching me – oh, and let’s not forget Rejal and Dukat – all on the chance that this prototype will emit _just_ enough radiation to destabilize Regnok’s morphogenic matrix while not killing anyone else in the process?”

“That’s exactly what I want.”

Even as he blinked his gaze stayed fixed on her, this woman he was still somehow required to trust. “You don’t honestly expect me to agree to that?” There was no use trying to keep the bewilderment off his face, but he didn’t really care to censor anything around her anymore, not when she didn’t take their danger seriously. “Yes, I’ve been accused of taking risks, but there’s just no way I – ”

“What if I could guarantee that neither Dukat nor Rejal nor any other Council member would be in attendance?” Telma cut in, taking a step closer to him. “That only Regnok had this particular evening open to honor the accomplishments of Central Command’s own Dr. Rhemeny as he accepts the Ahva Muvi’r Award?”

“How can you guarantee that?” But Telma’s grin only widened under his questioning gaze, and of course he already knew the answer. “Wait, let me guess. Another Starfleet Intelligence secret you couldn’t possibly tell me without risking the entire operation?”

“I can tell you that I’ve seen the reception’s guest list and the personal calendars of the politicians in question, and there will be no one at the reception who might recognize you,” Telma answered calmly. Yes, still very calm despite the frustration that was spreading openly on Julian’s face. “There will be quite a bit of press, of course, which I’m sure you and Garak can avoid easily enough… Press whose holo-cameras will be pointed at Regnok the moment he begins to revert.”

It was a bold plan, but at least it was beginning to make _some_ sense…Still, it brought up far too many questions to actually be possible. “Even if that’s true, that doesn’t take care of the Bureau,” Julian pointed out.

Again, Telma didn’t seem very concerned. “I wouldn’t worry about the Cardassian Intelligence Bureau. They haven’t even discovered who you are yet, and we will see to it that it stays that way.”

Julian narrowed his eyes. “And how do you plan to do that?”

“The same way we’ve already been keeping them off your back.”

Of course. He should have already guessed it, should have known the moment Garak told him that the Bureau didn’t seem to know his true identity.

“You have someone on the inside.”

At that Telma took a step back, her face all shock but none of it believable. “Oh dear, you’ve put me in quite a spot here…” she murmured, suddenly very interested in his research table, running a finger across its surface. She seemed to enjoy making a show of her deliberation, as if any such tricks would fool Julian after his experience with spies. “But I suppose since you already seem so certain, there isn’t much I can do…” And then her wry smile vanished, eyes dark and humorless as she fixed Julian with a stare. “You will, of course, remember that there are lives resting on your ability to keep that confidential.”

Oh yes, of course he was the one who threatened the assignment, not this woman who weaved her lies and obfuscation like it was all just a game. Well he was sick of this game. His trust would not be earned by a small offering of vague details, especially not after what she had done to Rugal.

“If you have someone inside the Cardassian Intelligence Bureau, then why in hell do you need me?” His voice came out through his teeth, but that hardly tempered his loud whisper.

“Lower your voice and I’ll explain,” she admonished, a hand on his arm.

And he complied, but he didn’t make any efforts to hide his displeasure as he waited for her explanation.

Telma removed her hand with an approving nod and began, voice barely above a whisper. “Simply put, the Bureau is not the Obsidian Order. Oh, Alon Ghemor was a fine leader in many aspects, but he was no Enabran Tain – and that means that the Bureau’s power has been quite limited. They know nothing of the Dominion plot, after all. And what little resources they do have must be used sparingly. Just like in the Council, our operative here must act with extreme caution or risk compromise. They don’t have the flexibility that you and Garak have had… Of course that might change.”

He took a moment to consider her excuses, and of course they were all plausible, but they seemed a little too convenient from this woman’s mouth. And he hardly would have guessed that Starfleet had so many people on Cardassia, even if these people were only Cardassians they had tricked into doing their bidding. “Yes, but we could have at least worked a little more cooperatively so Garak wouldn’t have spent weeks trying to access their database.”

Telma’s smile had now reemerged from her somber mask, her eyes twinkling with a secret joke. “From all we heard about Garak’s abilities, we didn’t think that would be an issue,” she answered simply. “Besides, I’m sure his efforts proved educational for you as well.”

“So my training as an operative is just as important to Starfleet as obtaining these war plans.” He squinted his eyes as if that would somehow help read between her words.

But that was hardly a believable excuse. Time was of the essence, and as much as Garak questioned Starfleet’s competence, they knew how to prioritize. So either she wasn’t telling him everything…or she wasn’t quite who she said she was…

“Or is that just _your_ agenda?”

The accusation earned no more than a chuckle from the Cardassian-presenting woman. She didn’t even blink. “You may accuse me all you like of being some sort of rogue agent, but I can assure you my superiors are quite pleased with my work here.”

“Yes, but are your superiors with Starfleet?”

“Ah, so I’m a double agent now?” That hard earned more of a reaction as she began circling Julian, but still revealed nothing behind her amused composure. “I don’t think I’ve ever been accused of _that_ before…” She stopped behind him, offering another chuckle. “Oh, but don’t worry. I’m hardly offended. Such suspicion is a necessary trait in this line of work. I can see Garak has done some good with you…even if you’ve had more of an influence on him…”

Julian’s frown deepened, a mirrored contradiction of the smile that was again in front of him. It was strange, but sometimes it seemed like Telma was trying to pit him against Garak, even if all her attempts had been subtle since she left the padd in their apartment. But before he could respond, she produced another surprise from her pocket of mysteries.

“If you’re really so concerned about my loyalties, then perhaps this will convince you: the details of this new task with Admiral Ross’ personal authorization.”

Julian examined the personal comm in Telma’s hand – a personal comm that he hadn’t seen before, that he hadn’t known she possessed… But he pushed that realization aside for the moment to examine the document and yes, it did look legitimate, not that he would have been able to spot a forgery with the naked eye…

But that personal comm…it was sure to hold so many of the answers that she refused to give him.

He turned away and meandered toward his desk, furrowing his brow in the semblance of deep thought. But he needed to keep her occupied in order to do this, so now was as good a time as any to bring up another burning question.

“You know, what I find most interesting about this plan is how close it comes to interfering in the internal affairs of a foreign government,” he mused, just a casual observation. “At least that’s what you called it when I had wanted to expose Dukat for assassinating Pa’Dar.” He fussed with a few things on his desk before slipping a tricorder into his pocket.

Telma remained where she stood, even as he could feel her gaze following him. “Ah, and Starfleet would indeed consider it such if Regnok was a legitimate Cardassian leader. But as it stands, it would be equally in Cardassia’s interest to expose him.”

Julian turned back around to meet her eyes, nothing but equanimity in the face of his scrutiny. That still didn’t answer his question, because when had this become more than an intelligence gathering operation to her? If it ever was one…

He would just have to poke holes in her answers until they arrived at some semblance of truth.

“But exposing him would lead to the deposal of many legitimate Cardassian leaders – and then who would take their place? It could throw the entire Cardassian Union into chaos.” After all, he hadn’t told her about Garak’s own plan to expose Regnok’s treachery precisely because she might consider Julian’s role in it too much interference, and that plan would have been much quieter. This plan, as tempting as it might be if it could actually be accomplished, hardly aligned with any of Telma’s previous concerns… But somehow he had never quite believed those concerns were genuine.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be sure to pull you out before anything like that happens.”

“Yes, but what about the innocent civilians who might be in danger during a regime change?” It was his turn to circle her, slipping a hand idly into his pocket to tap his tricorder, setting it to silent before beginning the scan. Five seconds more and his scan of her personal comm was complete. It wouldn’t tell them much besides basic details of the device, but Garak was certain to make use of that information regardless.

His hand was already back out of his pocket when she turned around to face him. “Rest assured we’re prepared to mitigate the damage,” was her vague promise. “Of course, there’s only so much we can do without crossing that fine line into interference. But we’re confident that the Civilian Assembly will handle the transition properly.”

Even if that was true, it was hardly doing her credibility any favors in his eyes. “Ah, so you’re perfectly fine with bending the Prime Directive now that it fits your agenda, just not breaking it. Then you must have been lying when you claimed this was only an intelligence gathering mission, that any form of interference was strictly forbidden.”

But Telma’s composure still would not falter, even with her lies placed openly in front of her. “Honestly, I’m surprised you’re not jumping at this opportunity, Julian,” she said, as if somehow that addressed his accusation. “You have always seemed eager to take this assignment in that direction.”

And that was another question, because if this plan really did bend the Prime Directive, then giving Garak the war plans to expose Regnok was just as guilty of that. But he pushed that thought away for the moment, more concerned with Telma’s rationalization than his own.

“Oh, I don’t disagree that this direction would be effective, if it were really possible to pull off,” he said, holding her gaze intently. “I’m only wondering why you have suddenly changed your opinion on the matter… Or why Starfleet Intelligence has, if you really are just the messenger.”

“It’s not quite a matter of changing one’s opinion, Julian.” There was a little less condescension in Telma’s voice now as she lowered it a touch further, like she was actually trying to convince him. “There have always been provisions in the Starfleet Charter that allow for such action if the situation warrants it.” And then she was stepping away, taking a seat at his research table with none of the usual casualness. “Do you recall what article fourteen, section thirty-one says?”

Her gaze beckoned him to sit. “Not off the top of my head,” he answered, taking the seat across from her. That wasn’t exactly true, but he wasn’t going to grant her the few seconds it would take it retrieve that memory from his mind.

“It says that extraordinary measures may be taken in times of extreme threat,” she explained, lacing her fingers together. “Now this is hardly an extraordinary measure, but I think we both know the extent of the threat facing the Alpha Quadrant.”

Julian eyed her warily, searching for the usual smug amusement, but there was something unusually genuine on her face. Perhaps her true motives were finally showing themselves. “So instead of preparing for war, it’s now our job to prevent it,” he guessed.

“In a way,” she answered simply. “You’re not the only one who’s running out of time, Julian. Once Dukat’s coup is underway, it will likely be too late. He will have all of the government on his side – and most of the public, I suspect, with Rejal’s unpopularity. This might be our last chance to stop Regnok.”

Telma’s smile had all but vanished now, lips stretched into a thin line, and suddenly it was a little less exasperating to listen to her.

“I appreciate the lengths you and Garak have gone to obtain those war plans,” she continued, eyes fixed on Julian.  “And I’m quite impressed by the resourcefulness of some of your tactics, but I’m afraid we no longer have the luxury of patience. We have reason to believe that Dukat will soon strike, and there’s no guarantee that Regnok’s war plans are even thorough enough to make them worth the hassle of retrieving them. It’s clear now that the only way to ensure the quadrant’s security is to expose the Changeling and topple Regal’s regime… So yes, I do think a bolder approach is warranted here.”

The polaron emitter was still lying on the table between them, harmless now but holding so much potential. He couldn’t really avoid considering this plan now, as little as he trusted the agent behind it. Preventing the war had always been his goal, and if they had Telma’s resources fully behind them, they were more likely to succeed. And it wasn’t as if they had been having much luck with their own plans in recent days, still unable to find an event to lure Regnok out of the city. If the Bureau didn’t know who he was, then Regnok most likely didn’t either. This plan could work…

And if this plan worked, it could potentially save billions more lives than the momentary chaos it would risk in this city – but when had he started rationalizing decisions in such a way?

But no, he couldn’t quite yet agree to something that still had loose ends.

“If I were to agree to this plan, what would we do in the meantime?” he asked, rolling the emitter idly between his hands. “The Bureau will have a new director soon, and he might prove more of a threat than Alon Ghemor.”

“You’ll just have to trust us with that, I’m afraid.” A subtle smile crept onto Telma’s face, but its meaning was anyone’s guess. “The reception is tomorrow evening, so there’s really no point going through all the hassle of moving out of your apartment and finding a safehouse, transferring files and purging your computer and reestablishing all of the access Garak has worked so hard to obtain – especially when it’s not certain the Bureau even knows where you live. Your real address isn’t listed in hospital records. Nor am I even certain we could find a sufficient place on such short notice... Of course, I’d offer my place if I had the room.”

“I’m sure.” Yes, she had been wearing him down, but that smile brought his suspicions back to the forefront of his mind. She didn’t honestly expect him to believe Starfleet didn’t have some sort of safehouse prepared for emergencies?

Silence settled between them as they continued to watch each other, Telma remaining unreadable under Julian’s clear suspicion.

At length her sigh broke the silence. “We’re on the same team, Julian. I don’t know why you distrust me,” she tutted, shaking her head in a way that was eerily familiar. “Your lover and I are really not that different.”

He couldn’t help but bristle at such an inaccurate comparison, a comparison that admittedly had run through his mind a few times, and suddenly he was on the defensive. “That’s where you’re wrong, Telma.” His voice was quiet but firm, just the slightest edge of warning to it. “Garak has never demanded my trust – quite the opposite, actually – yet he has earned it through his actions. You, on the other hand, have always demanded it because you’re with Starfleet, without doing anything to encourage my trust, or to prove that you really do subscribe to the Federation’s ideals.”

Telma’s smile wasn’t very smug now, a flash of impatience in her eyes, but at this point it was welcome. At least he had broken through part of her mask.

“Why would I need to prove that to you?” she countered brusquely. “Because I don’t fit _your_ ideal of a Starfleet officer? If that’s the case, then you know very little about covert operations, Julian Bashir.” She sat rigidly in her chair, eyes trained on him with a spark of fire. “I don’t need to prove anything to you. That is not my job. I subscribe to the Federation’s principles as much as you do, and I am willing to do whatever it takes to protect those principles. Now if you are not, then I suppose I will have to find someone who is.”

Telma rose and slipped the emitter back into her pocket.

And Julian remained silent for a moment, letting her words swirl through his mind. Yes, he could take this out, and they could pass on this mission to someone else, could give up all the intel they had gathered – the code they had traumatized a young woman for… But there was still a strong drive inside him, urging him forward to finish what they had started.

Telma didn’t seem too happy with his silence. “Well, Julian, it’s been a pleasure working with you,” she said, a smile plastered over curt words.

She was already at the door when Julian stood up.

“Wait. I haven’t given you my answer yet.”

 

* * *

 

“Forgive me for doubting your sanity, dear, but have you lost your mind? Perhaps we have different definitions of going into hiding, because mine does not involve very public events with prominent politicians and swarms of media.”

He had expected some objections to this plan, too many risks and political ramifications for Garak to immediately agree to, but as they sat over lunch in his office, Julian was still a little surprised by the shock etched openly on his lover’s face.

It had been four hours since his conversation with Telma and he had finally been able to pull Garak away for a quick lunch to discuss their next course of action. But by the displeasure that was already creeping up in Garak’s eyes, perhaps it wouldn’t be quite as quick as he expected.

“We’re not in as much danger as we thought, Garak,” Julian tried to explain, calmly and rationally. But the use of Garak’s name seemed to make the man tense minutely, glancing around the office as if he hadn’t already scanned it before starting this conversation. “That was Telma’s recording I found, not Rejal’s or Dukat’s. Neither of our identities have been compromised.”

“ _Yet._ That may change with the new leadership in the Bureau.”

“Telma has assured me that it won’t,” Julian explained, pushing aside the plate that he had already abandoned. “Starfleet has an agent on the inside that will delay their investigation into me long enough for us to pull this off. And once it’s complete, she’ll help us off Prime.”

Surprise flashed naked in Garak’s eyes, lips parted and brow furrowed, and for a moment he didn’t speak. When he broke the silence, his voice sounded far from pleased.

“It appears the Bureau is even more spectacularly incompetent than I realized…” His words trailed off, some private battle waging inside his mind until he lifted his gaze back to Julian. “But frankly, Julian, I’m still trying to understand why you’re so eager to trust Telma’s assurances. I wouldn’t have expected you to respond so indifferently to her spying… Or have you changed your opinions on her interference?”

A sigh escaped unbidden from Julian’s mouth, but he was hardly admitting defeat. Yes, he recognized the irony of invoking Telma’s name in his defense of this plan, but in this case he had no choice.

“Look, I was just as skeptical at first,” he admitted, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Of course I don’t _like_ having to trust her, but this opportunity is too good to pass up. And it might be our _only_ opportunity now that Regnok doesn’t seem eager to leave the city.”

Garak leaned in over his mashed _rhot_ root, as close to Julian as he could with the table between them, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Yes, and isn’t it just a little _too_ convenient? A large public event that our target will be attending, but none of the people who could compromise us?”

Julian opened his mouth but it was no use, cut off by a raised hand and a sharp look.

“But I won’t discuss this anymore here, not where she might be listening.” Garak rose with his half-eaten plate, a very strained smile that was barely trying anymore. “Until tonight, my dear.”

 

* * *

 

The skimmer ride home was long and silent. Garak was sure to take an even more circuitous route than he had that morning, winding through unfamiliar streets of Tarlak and Barvonok. It almost seemed like he wasn’t planning to return home at all, until finally the familiar shops of West Torr came into view.

Of course, the skimmer was far too exposed for Garak’s comfort, especially when Telma was capable of slipping bugs past him, so their conversation was again postponed until they were back safely in their apartment.

“Are we going to discuss this?” Julian asked as soon as the doors closed behind them. Perhaps he was impatient, but he had had plenty of time to formulate his arguments during what may have been their last shift at Central Hospital.

But Garak was still at the door, fiddling with the control panel. “Just a moment, please.”

The moment turned out to be fifteen and a half minutes long as Garak activated the containment field around their apartment and conducted an exhaustive security sweep. Really, it was hard not to be impatient, necessary as the scans were, but in the meantime Julian set down the case of polaron emitters Telma had given him and headed to the replicator for a cup of _gelat._

Finally Garak seemed satisfied, setting aside both tricorder and personal comm as he sat down on the couch. “Well, we’re as safe as we can be,” he announced, hardly inspiring confidence. “Now perhaps you can tell me why you’re even considering such a risky plan.”

That was hardly the best tone to start this off on, but Julian wouldn’t rise to match it. He would explain this patiently and rationally until Garak understood exactly why this risk was necessary.

 “As I already explained, the risks aren’t as great as thought,” he reminded, sitting down next to Garak with his steaming mug. “We need to expose Regnok soon if we ever want to prevent this war, and this reception might be our best option – even better than finding Regnok’s plans. All of Cardassia would know who Regnok really is, and the public outcry would force the Assembly to oust Rejal and her administration... I think that’s worth the risk.”

But Garak’s mask remained unchanged, still eyeing Julian with clear skepticism. “And if this plan were to fail, if the Bureau took advantage of your first public appearance in weeks, or if Regnok and his security detail became suspicious, or if a journalist decided an interview with a Human doctor would be newsworthy, or if Rejal or Dukat or any other Cardassian who knows your face decided to attend at the last minute, or if it all turned out to be a trap, would it still be worth the risk?”

“We’ll play it safe – blend into the crowd, withdraw our presence.”

“It’s a bit more difficult to blend in when you’ll be one of the only Humans there, with no mask to hide behind. I’m afraid I simply can’t agree to anything with such a high chance of failure.”

A sigh escaped Julian’s lips, his patience quickly wearing thin. But after making these same arguments himself this morning, and he was prepared for them. “Of course there’s a chance of failure,” he allowed, setting his _gelat_ on the side table. “There always has been. Hell, there’s a chance the Bureau will come knocking down our door at any moment and drag us off to prison. But that shouldn’t stop us from doing what needs to be done to complete this assignment.” Garak was always stressing the importance of doing what must be done, after all.

“I’m afraid that argument won’t work here, my dear,” Garak retorted, but there was no affection in his hollow endearment, only a note of condescension that irritated Julian to no end. “But perhaps you haven’t considered exactly how great this chance of failure is, how strongly it outweighs the odds of success.”

Then Garak was rising from the couch to continue his monologue, refusing Julian the chance to respond as he started pacing about the room. “And you were showing _such_ promise, Julian…” he lamented, voice dripping with disappointment. “But now it seems you’ve reverted to that naïve, young officer ready to go charging into danger without any forethought, ready to play the hero and save this poor, defenseless world from certain destruction.”

But Julian hardly had the patience for his melodrama now, this smug vanity that acted like Julian was only doing this assignment to win Garak’s approval. Still, he remained seated as his body stiffened, following Garak around the room with his eyes. “That’s not true, Garak. This has nothing to do with me.”

Garak turned back from the console he had only just bent over, turning his eyes back on Julian with little patience of his own. “Well, then surely you would be amenable to leaving this assignment to another agent – someone who wouldn’t be recognized, someone who hasn’t caught the Bureau’s attention, someone truly anonymous.” He took a step closer, eyes still fixed on his target. “After all, Telma has no shortage of people on my world.”

It was strange how there seemed to be a hint of bitterness in Garak’s words, as if somehow Starfleet Intelligence’s presence was a personal slight against him. And perhaps that was how he took it...But really, Julian should have expected this opposition from someone whose top priority was self-preservation.

“Or maybe this is about you, Garak.” Julian rose from the couch and met Garak halfway, two stubborn pillars standing in the middle of the living room. “Maybe you’re so paralyzed by your reptilian brain that you would rather _give up_ than take a risk to save your people! What ever happened to serving Cardassia? What ever happened to returning home?”

There was little distance between them now as Garak returned his gaze fiercely, dark eyes gleaming. “It wouldn’t serve Cardassia now to get us both killed!” he hissed, still keeping his voice down despite the soundproof containment field. “There is no shame in living to fight another day.”

“What’s your plan then? Stow away on some freighter and run back to DS9 with our tails between our legs?”

“I have a few favors I can call in,” Garak answered, if such a vague response could even be considered an answer. “Since Telma is clearly not going to help us.”

“So we’re just going to abandon everyone here to Dominion rule.”

“No.”

And suddenly there was a flicker of anger in Garak’s eyes, barely concealed by the shadows playing on his features. It was gone soon enough, gone under the mask he was still futilely clinging to despite his agitation, as if he could never drop all of the barriers that stood between them.

“You can accuse me of many things, Julian, but not that.” Garak’s voice was glazed with ice, low and controlled. “There are still other ways. We might be able to obtain Regnok’s plans remotely if we can get our hands on the right equipment, or I can send one of my contacts outside of the Cardassian Union to retrieve them personally.”

Yes, but they hardly had time for that if what Telma said was to be believed. If they left Cardassia Prime now, they would likely never complete this assignment. He opened his mouth to say as much, but Garak was already speaking again.

“There is no need to act recklessly, if you would only take the time to consider this rationally. But instead you simply agree to Telma’s oh-so-convenient plot without even consulting me!” His composure seemed to falter here, another glimpse of irritation boiling under the surface. “Quite inconsistent for someone who has stressed the importance of collaboration...”

No, Garak wasn’t going to use that against him, not when the stubborn Cardassian was refusing to even entertain his idea. “I agreed because I thought _you_ would agree!” he shot back. “But clearly it’s a little hard to be partners when one of us is so uncooperative.”

Garak’s laugh was dark and humorless. “Oh, I’ve been more than cooperative, often against my better judgment. We’ve been going about this your way for the entire assignment.”

Oh, was that what he really thought? “It wasn’t my idea to interrogate Ilya Regnok,” Julian pointed out.

“And you only agreed to that after we had exhausted all of the Julian-approved methods.”

“Which is why I expected you to at least consider this idea!” Julian’s patience as all but gone now, arms crossed resolutely across his chest. “Especially after what you tried to pull off with Tekeny Ghemor.” Garak would have risked a civil war, after all, to stop Cardassia from joining the Dominion, but it seemed risking his own life was too high a price.

A sigh escaped Garak’s lips as he finally broke their fiery gaze, pressing a finger to his temple. “At an earlier time I likely would have,” he allowed. “But now that we’re required to rely on Telma’s protection from the Bureau, it’s simply no longer possible.”

There was a slight lull in the argument now as they stared silently at each other, heads held high and chests nearly touching as they stood at an impasse. And honestly, Julian wasn’t sure how to proceed. At one point it seemed like Garak had respected him as an operative, even with all the teasing, but how genuine had that really been? Clearly he wasn’t very proud of his protégé anymore. Clearly Julian hadn’t earned a part in this very _exclusive_ profession that Garak claimed as his own…. And now this was beginning to make more sense.

“I think there’s more to this…” Julian said, voice barely above a whisper. “You would have found some way to make this work on your own. This isn’t about the risks or the danger, is it? You just don’t trust me, Garak.”

Of course he was guilty of the same, but at least he had good reason to be skeptical of a former Order agent… Yes, he had defended Garak to Telma just that morning, but now, well, perhaps he wasn’t as confident.

And really, the few mistakes Julian had made in this assignment, the “carelessness” Garak was so certain would cost them, hadn’t led to any great catastrophe, especially if the Bureau had been watching them long before he found Regnok’s medical records. And that was certainly something to point out, but then Garak’s voice cut through his thoughts.

“If you choose to trust Telma, then no, I don’t trust your judgment on this,” the Cardassian said, hardly trying to obscure the truth. “But once you get something into your head, it’s impossible to turn you from it, no matter how disastrous the consequences may be.”

But Julian wouldn’t be persuaded by that, even if he could appreciate the unusual directness in Garak’s words. “I’m the one Starfleet requested, Garak. I’m the one who’s being watched. This is my call to make.”

“Oh, then by all means, Doctor, rush headlong into danger.” Garak’s eyes glinted in the dim light, the mockery of a smile playing at his lips. “But if you think that just because we are physically intimate, I will follow you blindly, then I’m afraid you are mistaken. I will not allow _my_ judgment to be clouded by this attachment. I will make the right decision, even if you refuse to join me.”

Anger was boiling fresh inside Julian now, sick of that stubborn arrogance and condescending tone. “Then by all means, _Garak,_ do what you think is right!” he snapped back, mimicking the Cardassian’s over-annunciated accent. “But _I_ won’t be following your orders this time.”

He spun away before he could see Garak’s reaction, in no mood to hear any more of his arguments. “It was a pleasure working with you, Elim Garak,” he said between teeth, grabbing a stack of padds from the table. The room was silent as he retreated into the bedroom.

He was hardly being dramatic as he flopped down onto the bed and stared at the ceiling for a few moments. But no, he hardly had time for that now, turning on a padd and shoving all distractions into some dark corner of his mind. Yes, he was hardly in the best of moods right now, but he wouldn’t stay furious or melancholy or start casting regretful glances to the pajamas folded neatly on his nightstand. There was much to do before tomorrow evening, starting with the schematics Telma had provided of the Institute Hall.

Because yes, he would do what was best for the assignment regardless of Garak’s cooperation, regardless of their intimate attachment. Garak could pack his bags and catch the next shuttle to the transport station for all Julian cared. That man had made his decision quite clear, and he had made his. He could finish this assignment without a partner.

But after a few hours of work, those pesky thoughts began to resurface again, just harmless curiosity wondering why the living room was still so silent. Had Garak already slipped out? Was this it, then?

Curiosity eventually won out and he poked his head into the living room, and no, Garak hadn’t let. There he was sitting stooped over the console, its glow casting harsh shadows over his features. And perhaps that meant that he wasn’t planning to leave – he hadn’t made any attempt at packing, it seemed – and perhaps he had reconsidered his plan.

But Garak kept tapping away at the controls as Julian approached, no heartfelt apology or begrudging acquiescence pouring from his mouth. He wouldn’t even dignify Julian with a glance of acknowledgement.

And with that Julian’s previous frustrations reemerged, his apology dying on his tongue  

“I’m going to bed,” he said brusquely.

Garak said nothing.

 “Garak.”

“Good night, dear,” Garak murmured, not bothering to look up.

Julian withdrew into the bedroom and shut the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who do you agree with more, Julian or Garak? I'd love to hear your thoughts!
> 
> Tune in next week for the calm before the storm.


End file.
